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1     if     Hi.   ~  "         ""  Vjfll 


MARK,  THE  MATCH  BOY; 


RICHARD  HUNTER'S  WARD. 


BY 


HORATIO  ALGER,  Jr., 

AUTHOR  OP  "RAGGED  DICK,"   "FAME    AND    FORTUNE,"  "FRANK'S 

CAMPAIGN,"   "  PAUL   PRESCOTT'S  CHARGE,"   "  CHARLIE 

CODMAN'S  CRUISE,"   ETC. 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO., 

PHILADELPHIA, 

CHICAGO,  TORONTO. 


FAMOUS  ALGER  BOOKS. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  6  vols.  12mo.  Cloth. 
Ragged  Dick.  Rough  and  Ready. 

Fame  and  Fortune.  Ben  the  Luggage  Boy. 

Mark  the  Match  Boy.  Rufus  and  Rose. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    4  vols.    12mo. 
Cloth.    First  Series. 
Tattered  Tom.  Phil  the  Fiddler. 

Paul  the  Peddler.  Slow  and  Sure. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.    4  vols.    12mo.    Cloth.    Second  Series. 
Julius.  Sam's  Chance. 

The  Young  Outlaw.  The  Telegraph  Boy. 

CAMPAIGN  SERIES.    By  Hobatio  Alger,  Jr.    3  vols. 

Frank's  Campaign.  Charlie  Codman's  Cruise. 

Paul  Prescott's  Charge. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols.  12mo. 
Cloth.    First  Series. 
Luck  and  Pluck.  Strong  and  Steady. 

Sink  or  Swim.  Strive  and  Succeed. 

LUCKANDPLUCKSERIES.    4  vols.    12mo.   Cloth.  Second  Series. 
Try  and  Trust.  Risen  from  the  Ranks. 

Bound  to  Rise.  Herbert  Carter's  Legacy. 

BRAVE  AND  BOLD  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.   4  vols.   12mo. 
Cloth. 
Brave  and  Bold.  Shifting  for  Himself. 

Jack's  Ward.  Wait  and  Hope. 

PACIFIC  SERIES.    By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    4  vols.    12mo. 
The  Young  Adventurer.  The  Young  Explorers. 

The  Young  Miner.  Ben's  Nugget. 

ATLANTIC  SERIES.     By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    4  vols. 

The  Young  Circus  Rider.  Hector's  Inheritance. 

Do  and  Dare.  Helping  Himself. 

WAY  TO  SUCCESS  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.   4vols.  12mo. 
Cloth. 
Bob  Burton.  Luke  Walton. 

The  Store  Boy.  Struggling  Upward. 

NEW  WORLD  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  3  vols.  12mo.  Cloth. 
Digging  for  Gold.      Facing  the  World.       In  a  New  World. 

Other  Volumes  in  Preparation. 

Copyright  by  A.  K.  Lorinq,  1869. 


Copyright,  1897,  by  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 


JAMES    ALOBM, 


9RII       T  O  LUM  E 


18       IHICIISR?!, 


OTBCTIOJTATK  BBOTHaR. 


PEEFACE. 


"Mark,  the  Match  Boy,"  is  the  third  volume 
of  the  "  Ragged  Dick  Series,"  and,  like  its  prede 
cessors,  aims  to  describe  a  special  phase  of  street 
life  in  New  York.  While  it  is  complete  in  itself, 
several  characters  are  introduced  who  have  figured 
conspicuously  in  the  preceding  volumes ;  and  the 
curiosity  as  to  their  future  history,  which  has  been 
expressed  by  man}'  young  readers,  will  be  found  to 
be  gratified  in  the  present  volume. 

The  author  has  observed  with  pleasure  the  in 
creased  public  attention  which  has  been  drawn  to 
the  condition  of  these  little  waifs  of  city  life,  by 
articles  in  our  leading  magazines,  and  in  other  ways  ; 
and  hopes  that  the  result  will  be  to  strengthen  and 
assist  the  philanthropic  efforts  which  are  making  to 
■escue   them    from    their   vagabond   condition,    and 

vn 


VIII  PREFASX. 

train  them  up  to  be  useful  members  Df  society.  That 
his  own  efforts  have  been  received  with  so  large  a 
measure  of  public  favor,  not  limited  to  the  young 
readers  for  whom  the  series  is  especially  written,  the 
author  desires  to  express  b;s»  grateful  thanks. 

New  York,  April,  1869. 


MARK,  THE  MATCH  BOY; 

OB, 

RICHARD  HUNTER'S  WARD. 
CHAPTER  I. 

RICHARD    HUNTER    AT   HOME. 

"Fosdick,"  said  Richard  Hunter,  "  what  was 
the  name  of  that  man  who  owed  your  father  two 
thousand  dollars,  which  he  never  paid  him?" 

"  Hiram  Bates,"  answered  Fosdick,  in  some  sur- 
prise.     "  What  made  you  think  of  him  ?  " 

"  I  thought  I  remembered  the  name.  He 
moved  out  West,  didn't  he?  " 

"  So  I  heard  at  the  time." 

"Do  you  happen  to  remember  where?  Out 
West  is  a  very  large  place." 

"I  do  not  know  exactly,  but  I  think  it  was  Mil- 
Waukie." 

"Indeed  !  "  exclaimed  Richard  Hunter,  in  visible 

9 


10  MARK,    THE    MATCH    BOY ; 

excitement.  "Well.  Fosdick,  why  don't  you  try  to 
get  the  debt  paid  ?  ' ' 

"  Of  what  use  would  it  be  ?  How  do  I  know  he 
is  living  in  Milkaukie  now  ?  If  I  should  write  hin 
a  letter,  there  isn't  much  chance  of  my  ever  getting 
an  answer." 

"  Call  and  see  him." 

"  What,  go  out  to  Milwaukie  on  such  a  wild-goose 
chase  as  that  ?  I  can't  think  what  you  are  driving 
at,  Dick." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you,  Fosdick.  Hiram  Bates  is 
now  in  New  York." 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  Fosdick,  with  an 
expression  of  mingled  amazement  and  incredulity. 

"  I'll  show  you." 

Richard  Hunter  pointed  to  the  list  of  hotel  arriv- 
als in  the  "  Evening  Express,"  which  he  held  in  his 
hand.  Among  the  arrivals  at  the  Astor  House 
occurred  the  name  of  Hiram  Bates,  from  Mil- 
waukie. 

"If  I  am  not  mistaken,"  he  said,  "that  is  the 
name  of  your  father's  debtor." 

"  I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,"  said  Fosdick, 
thoughtfully 


OR,    RTCHAIiD   HUATER's    WARD.  11 

"  He  must  be  prosperous  if  he  stops  at  a  high- 
pficed  hotel  like  the  Astor." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so.  How  much  good  that 
money  would  have  done  my  poor  father/'  he  added, 
with  a  sigh. 

"  How  much  good  it  will  do  you,  Fosdick." 

Fosdick  shook  his  head.  "  I  would  sell  out  my 
chance  of  getting  it  for  ten  dollars,"  he  said. 

"  I  would  buy  it  at  that  price  if  I  wanted  to  make 
money  out  of  you ;  but  I  don't.  I  advise  you  to 
attend  to  this  matter  at  once." 

"  What  can  I  do?  "  asked  Fosdick,  who  seemed 
at  a  loss  to  understand  his  companion's  meaning. 

"There  is  only  one  thing  to  do,"  said  Dick, 
promptly.  "  Call  on  Mr.  Bates  this  evening  at  the 
hotel.  Tell  him  who  you  are,  and  hint  that  you 
should  like  the  money." 

"  I  haven't  got  your  confidence,  Dick.  I  shouldn't 
know  how  to  go  about  it.  Do  you  really  think  it 
would  do  any  good  ?  He  might  think  I  was  imper- 
tinent." 

"  Impertinent  to  ask  payment  of  a  just  debt !  I 
don't  see  it  in  that  light.  I  think  I  shall  have  to  go 
yith  you." 


12  MARK,    THR     MATCB    BOY J 

" 1  wish  you  would,  —  that  is,  if  you  leally  think 
there  is  any  use  in  going." 

"You  mustn't  be  so  bashful  if  you  want  to  get 
on  in  the  world,  Fosdick.  As  long  as  there's  a 
chance  of  getting  even  a  part  of  it,  I  advise  you  to 
make  the  attempt." 

"  Well,  Dick,  I'll  be  guided  by  your  advice." 

"  Two  thousand  dollars  would  be  a  pretty  good 
windfall  for  you." 

"  That's  true  enough,  considering  that  I  only  get 
eight  dollars  a  week." 

"  I  wish  you  got  more." 

v*  So  do  I,  for  one  particular  reason." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  I  don't  feel  satisfied  to  have  you  pay  ten  dol- 
lars a  week  towards  our  board,  while  I  pay  only  six." 

"  Didn't  you  promise  not  to  say  anything  mora 
about  that  ?  "  said  Dick,  reproachfully. 

"  But  I  can't  help  thinking  about  it.  If  we  had 
stayed  at  our  old  boarding-house  in  Bleecker  Street, 
I  could  have  paid  my  full  share." 

"  But  this  is  a  nicer  room." 

' '  Much  nicer.  If  I  only  paid  my  half,  f  should 
be  glad  of  the  chance." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  13 

"  Well,  I'll  promise  you  one  thing  If  Mr. 
'  ates  pays  you  the  two  thousand  dollars,  you  may 
pay  your  half  of  the  expense." 

"  Not  much  chance  of  that,  Dick." 

"  We  can  tell  better  after  calling  at  the  Astor 
House.     Get  on  your  coat  and  we'll  start." 

While  the  boys,  —  for  the  elder  of  the  two  is  but 
eighteen  —  are  making  preparations  to  go  out,  a 
few  explanations  may  be  required  by  the  reader. 
Those  who  have  read  "Ragged  Dick"  and  "Fame 
and  Fortune,"  —  the  preceding  volumes  of  this  series, 
—  will  understand  that  less  than  three  years  before 
Richard  Hunter  was  an  ignorant  and  ragged  bootblack 
about  the  streets,  and  Fosdick,  though  possessing  a  bet- 
ter education,  was  in  the  same  business.  By  a  series 
of  upward  steps,  partly  due  to  good  fortune,  but 
largely  to  his  own  determination  to  improve,  and 
hopeful  energy,  Dick  had  now  become  a  book-keeper 
in  the  establishment  of  Rockwell  &  Cooper,  on 
Pearl  Street,  and  possessed  the  confidence  and  good 
wishes  of  the  firm  in  a  high  degree. 

Fosdick  was  two  years  younger,  and,  though  an 
excellent  boy,  was  less  confident,  and  not  so  well 
fitted  as  his  friend  to  contend  with  the  difficulties  of 


14  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOT; 

life,  and  fight  his  way  upward.  He  was  employed 
in  Henderson's  hat  and  cap  store  on  Broadway,  and 
was  at  present  earning  a  salary  of  eight  dollars  a 
week.  As  the  two  paid  sixteen  dollars  weekly  for 
their  board,  Fosdick  would  have  had  nothing  left  if 
he  had  paid  his  full  share.  But  Richard  Hunter  at 
first  insisted  on  paying  eleven  dollars  out  of  the  six- 
teen, leaving  his  friend  but  five  to  pay,  To  this 
Fosdick  would  not  agree,  and  was  with  difficulty 
prevailed  upon  at  last  to  allow  Richard  to  pay  ten ; 
but  he  had  always  felt  a  delicacy  about  this,  although 
he  well  knew  how  gladly  his  friend  did  it. 

The  room  which  they  now  occupied  was  situated 
in  St.  Mark's  Place,  which  forms  *he  eastern  por- 
tion of  Eighth  Street.  It  was  a  front  room  on  the 
third  floor,  and  was  handsomely  furnished.  There 
was  a  thick  carpet,  of  tasteful  figure,  on  the  floor. 
Between  the  two  front  windows  was  a  handsome 
bureau,  surmounted  by  a  large  mirror.  There  was 
a  comfortable  sofa,  chairs  covered  with  hair-cloth,  a 
centre-table  covered  with  books,  crimson  curtains, 
which  gave  a  warm  and  cosey  look  to  the  room  when 
lighted  up  in  the  evening,  and  all  the  accessories  of 
a  well-furnished  room    which  is  used  at  the   same 


OR.    RICHARD    BUTTER'S    WARD.  15 

('me  ad  parlor  and  chamber.  This,  with  an  excellent 
table,  afforded  a  very  agreeable  home  to  the  boys,  — 
a  home  which,  in  these  days,  would  cost  considerably 
more,  but  for  which,  at  the  time  of  which  I  write, 
sixteen  dollars  was  a  fair  price. 

It  may  be  thought  that,  considering  how  recently 
Richard  Hunter  had  been  a  ragged  bootblack,  con- 
tent to  sleep  in  boxes  and  sheltered  doorways,  and 
live  at  the  cheapest  restaurants,  he  had  become  very 
luxurious  in  his  tastes.  Why  did  he  not  get  a 
cheaper  boarding-place,  and  save  up  the  difference  in 
price?  No  doubt  this  consideration  will  readily 
suggest  itself  to  the  minds  of  some  of  my  young 
readers. 

As  Richard  Hunter  had  a  philosophy  of  his  own 
on  this  subject,  I  may  as  well  explain  it  here.  He 
had  observed  that  those  young  men  who  out  of  econ- 
omy contented  themselves  with  small  and  cheerless 
rooms,  in  which  there  was  no  provision  for  a  fire, 
were  driven  in  the  evening  to  the  streets,  theatres, 
and  hotels,  for  the  comfort  which  they  could  not  find 
at  home.  Here  they  felt  obliged  to  spend  money  to 
an  extent  of  which  they  probably  were  not  them- 
selves fully  aware,  and  in  the  end  wasted  considera- 


16  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

»lj  more  than  the  two  or  three  dollars  a  'week  extra 
which  would  have  provided  them  with  a  comfortable 
aome.  But  this  was  not  all.  In  the  roamings 
spent  outside  many  laid  the  foundation  of  wrong 
habits,  which  eventually  led  to  ruin  or  shortened 
their  lives.  Thej  lost  all  the  chances  of  improve- 
ment which  they  might  have  secured  by  study  at 
home  in  the  long  winter  evenings,  and  which  in  the 
end  might  have  qualified  them  for  posts  of  higher 
responsibility,  and  with  a  larger  compensation. 

Richard  Hunter  was  ambitious.  He  wanted  to 
rise  to  an  honorable  place  in  the  community,  and  he 
meant  to  earn  it  by  hard  study.  So  Fosdick  and  he 
were  in  the  habit  of  spending  a  portion  of  every 
evening  in  improving  reading  or  study.  Occasion- 
ally he  went  to  some  place  of  amusement,  but  he 
enjoyed  thoroughly  the  many  evenings  when,  before 
a  cheerful  fire,  with  books  in  their  hands,  his  room- 
mate and  himself  were  adding  to  their  stock  of 
knowledge.  The  boys  had  for  over  a  year  taken 
lessons  in  French  and  mathematics,  and  were  now 
able  to  read  the  French  language  with  considerable 
ease. 

"  What's  the  use  of  moping  every  evening  in  youi 


OR,    RICHARD   HONTER*S    WARD.  11 

room?''  asked  a  young  clerk  who  occupied  a  hall 
bedroom  adjoining. 

"  I  don't  call  it  moping.  I  enjoy  it,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  You  don't  go  to  a  place  of  amusement  once  a 
month." 

"  I  go  as  often  as  I  like." 

"  Well,  you're  a  queer  chap.  You  pay  such  a 
thundering  price  for  board.  You  could  go  to  the 
theatre  four  times  a  week  without  its  costing  you 
any  more,  if  you  would  take  a  room  like  mine." 

"I  know  it;  but  I'd  rather  have  a  nice,  comfort- 
able room  to  come  home  to." 

"Are  you  studying  for  a  college  professor?" 
asked  the  other,    with   a  sneer. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Dick,  good-humoredly ; 
"but  I'm  open  to  proposals,  as  the  oyster  remarked. 
If  you  know  any  first-class  institution  that  would 
like  a  dignified  professor,  of  extensive  acquirements, 
just  mention  me,  will  you  ?  " 

So  Richard  Hunter  kept  on  his  way,  indifferent  to 

the  criticisms  which  his  conduct  excited  in  the  minds 

of  young  men  of  his  own  age.     He  looked  farther 

than  they,  and  knew  that  if  he  wanted  to  succeed  in 

2 


18  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY ; 

life,  and  win  the  respect  of  his  fellow-men,  he  caust 
do  something  else  than  attend  theatres,  and  spend  big 
evenings  in  billiard  saloons.  Fosdick,  who  was  a 
quiet,  studious  boy,  fully  agreed  with  his  friend  in 
his  views  of  life,  and  by  his  companionship  did  much 
to  strengthen  and  confirm  Richard  in  his  resolution. 
He  was  less  ambitious  than  Dick,  and  perhaps  loved 
study  more  for  its  own  sake. 

With  these  explanations  we  shall  now  be  able  to 
start  fairly  in  our  story. 


OX.    RiCRARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  19 


CHAPTER     II. 


AT    THE    ASTOR    HOUSE. 


The  two  friends  started  from  their  room  about 
seven  o'clock,  and  walked  up  to  Third  Avenue, 
where  they  jumped  vn  board  a  horse-car,  and  withiD 
half  an  hour  were  landed  at  the  foot  of  the  City  Hall 
Park,  opposite  Beekman  Street.  From  this  point  it 
was  necessary  only  to  cross  the  street  to  the  Astor 
House. 

The  Astor  House  is  a  massive  pile  of  gray  stone , 
and  has  a  solid  look,  as  if  it  might  stand  for  hundreds 
of  years.  When  it  was  first  erected,  a  little  more 
than  thirty  years  since,  it  was  considered  far  up 
town,  but  now  it  is  far  down  town,  so  rapid  has  been 
the  growth  of  the  city. 

Richard  Hunter  ascended  the  stone  steps  with  a 
firm  step,  but  Henry  Fosdick  lingered  behind. 

"  Do  you  think  we  had  better  go  up,  Dick  ?  "  he 
said  irresolutely. 


20  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY ; 

'Why  not?" 

'  I  feel  awkward  about  it." 

"  There   is   no   reason    why   you  should.      The 
money   belongs   to    you    rightfully,    as   the   repre 
sentative  of  your   father,  and  it   is  worth   trying 
for." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  right,  but  I  shan't  know 
what  to  say." 

"  I'll  help  you  alcng  if  I  find  you  need  it.  Come 
along." 

Those  who  possess  energy  and  a  strong  will  gen- 
erally gain  their  point,  and  it  was  so  with  Richard 
Hunter.  They  entered  the  hotel,  and,  ascending 
some  stone  steps,  found  themselves  on  the  main  floor, 
where  the  reading-room,  clerk's  office,  and  dining- 
room  are  located. 

Dick,  to  adopt  the  familiar  name  by  which  his 
companion  addressed  him,  stepped  up  to  the  desk, 
and  drew  towards  him  the  book  of  arrivals.  After 
a  brief  search  he  found  the  name  of  "Hiram  Bates, 
Milwaukie,  Wis.,"  towards  the  top  of  the  left-hand 
page. 

"Is  Mr.  Bates  in?"  he  inquired  of  the  clerk, 
pointing  to  the  name. 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  21 

"  I  will  send  and  inquire,  if  you  will  write  youi 
name  on  this  card." 

Dick  thought  it  would  be  best  to  send  his  own 
name,  as  that  of  Fosdick  might  lead  Mr.  Bates 
to  guess  the  business  on  which  they  had  come. 

He  accordingly  wrote  the  name, 

in  his  handsomest  handwriting,  and  handed  it  to  the 
clerk. 

That  functionary  touched  a  bell.  The  summona 
was  answered  by  a  servant. 

"James,  go  to  No.  147,  and  see  if  Mr.  Bates  ia 
in.     If  he  is,  give  him  this  card." 

The  messenger  departed  at  once,  and  returned 
quickly. 

"The  gentleman  is  in,  and  would  be  glad  to  have 
Mr.  Hunter  walk  up." 

"  Come  along,  Fosdick,"  said  Dick,  in  a  low 
voice. 

Fosdick  obeyed,  feeling  very  neivous.  Follow 
ing  the  servant  upstairs,  they  soon  stood  befon 
No.  147. 

James  knocked. 


22  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY', 

"  Come  in,"  was  heard  from  the  inside,  and  the 
two  friends  entered. 

They  found  themselves  in  a  comfortably  furnished 
room.  A  man  of  fifty-five,  rather  stout  in  build, 
and  with  iron-gray  hair,  rose  from  his  chair  before 
the  fire,  and  looked  rather  inquiringly.  He  seemed 
rather  surprised  to  find  that  there  were  two  visitors, 
as  well  as  at  the   evident  youth  of  both. 

"  Mr.  Hunter?"  he  said,  inquiringly,  looking 
from  Oxie  to  the  other. 

"  That  is  my  name,"  said  Dick,  promptly. 

"  Have  I  met  you  before?  If  so,  my  memory  is 
at  fault." 

"  No,  sir,  we  have  never  met." 

"  I  presume  you  have  business  with  me.  Be 
seated,  if  you  please." 

"  First,"  said  Dick,  "  let  me  introduce  my  friend 
Henry  Fosdick." 

"  Fosdick  ! "  repeated  Hiram  Bates,  with  a  3light 
tinge  of  color. 

"I  think  you  knew  my  father,"  said  Fosdick, 
nervously. 

"  Your  father  was  a  printer,  —  was  he  not  ?  "  in* 
quired  Mr.  Bates. 


OR,   RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  23 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"I  do  remember  him.  Do  you  come  from 
him?" 

Fosdick  shook  his  head. 

"  He  has  been  dead  for  two  years,"  he  said, 
ladly. 

''Dead!  "  repeated  Hiram  Bates,  as  if  shocked. 
,{ Indeed,  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it." 

He  spoke  with  evident  regret,  and  Henry  Fosdick, 
whose  feelings  towards  his  father's  debtor  had  not 
been  very  friendly,  noticed  this,  and  was  softened 
by  it. 

"  Did  he  die  in  poverty,  may  I  ask  ?  "  inquired 
Mr.  Bates,  after  a  pause. 

"  He  was  poor,"  said  Fosdick  ;  "  that  is,  he  had 
nothing  laid  up ;  but  his  wages  were  enough  to  sup- 
port him  and  myself  comfortably." 

"  Did  he  have  any  other  family?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  my  mother  died  six  years  since,  and  1 
had  no  brothers  or  sisters." 

"  He  left  no  property  then?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

'*  Then  I  suppose  he  was  able  to  make  no  pn»rw 
ion  for  you?  " 


24  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY', 

"  No,  sir." 

"  But  you  probably  had  some  relatives  who  came 
forward  and  provided  for  you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir;  I  had  no  relatives  in  New  York." 

"What  then  did  you  do?  Excuse  my  questions, 
but  I  have  a  motive  in  asking." 

"  My  father  died  suddenly,  having  fallen  from  a 
Brooklyn  ferry-boat  and  drowned.  He  left  nothing, 
and  I  knew  of  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  go  into 
the  streets  as  a  boot-black." 

"  Surely  you  are  not  in  that  business  now?" 
said  Mr.  Bates,  glancing  at  Fosdick's  neat  dress. 

u  No,  sir;  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  a 
friend,"  —  here  Fosdick  glanced  at  Dick, —  "who 
helped  me  along,  and  encouraged  me  to  apply  for  a 
place  in  a  Broadway  store.  I  have  been  there  now  for 
a  year  and  a  half." 

"  What  wages  do  you  get?  Excuse  my  curiosity, 
but  your  story  interests  me." 

"  Eight  dollars  a  week." 

"  And  do  you  find  you  can  live  comfortably  on 
that?" 

"Yes,  sir;  that  is,  with  the  assistance  of  my 
friend  here." 


OB,    RICHARD    HUN'*  iSR7 S    WARD.  25 

"I  am  g!o,d  you  have  a  friend  who  is  able  and 
willing  to  help  you." 

"  It  is  not  worth  mentioning,"  said  Dick,  mod- 
estly. ' '  I  have  received  as  much  help  from  him  aa 
he  has  from  me." 

"I  see  at  any  rate  that  you  are  good  friends,  and 
a  good  friend  is  worth  having.  May  I  ask,  Mr.  Fos- 
dick,  whether  you  ever  heard  your  father  refer  to  me 
in  any  way?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"You  are  aware,  then,  that  there  were  some 
money  arrangements  between  us?  " 

"  I  have  heard  him  say  that  you  had  two  thousand 
dollars  of  his,  but  that  you  failed,  and  that  it  was 
lost." 

"He  informed  you  rightly.  I  will  tell  you 
the  particulars,  if  you  are  not  already  aware 
of  them." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  hear  them,  sir.  My 
father  died  so  suddenly  that  I  never  knew  anything 
more  than  that  you  owed  him  two  thousand  dol- 
lars." 

"Five  years  since,"  commenced  Mr.  Bates,  "I 
was  a  broker  in  Wall  Street.     As  from  my  business 


26  AfAliK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

I  was  expected  to  know  the  best  investments,  some 
persons  brought  me  money  to  keep  for  them,  and  I 
either  agreed  to  pay  them  a  certain  rate  of  interest, 
or  gave  them  an  interest  in  my  speculations. 
Among  the  persons  was  your  father.  The  way 
\n  which  I  got  acquainted  with  him  was  this  : 
Having  occasion  to  get  some  prospectuses  of  a  new 
company  printed,  I  went  to  the  office  with  which  he 
was  connected.  There  was  some  error  in  the  print- 
ing, and  he  was  sent  to  my  office  to  speak  with  me 
about  it.  When  our  business  was  concluded,  he 
waited  a  moment,  and  then  said,  '  Mr.  Bates,  I  have 
saved  up  two  thousand  dollars  in  the  last  ten  years, 
but  I  don't  know  much  about  investments,  and  I 
should  consider  it  a  favor  if  you  wouia  advise 
me.' 

"{I  will  do  so  with  pleasure,'  I  said.  'If  you 
desire  it  I  will  take  charge  of  it  for  you,  and  either 
allow  you  six  per  cent,  interest,  or  give  you  a  share 
of  the  profits  I  may  make  from  investing  it.' 

"  Your  father  said  that  he  should  be  glad  to  havt 
nic  take  the  money  for  him,  but  he  would  prefer  reg- 
ular interest  to  uncertain  profits.  The  next  day  he 
brought   the   money,  and  put  it  in  my  hands.     T* 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  27 

confess  the  truth  I  was  glad  to  have  him  do  so,  for  I 
was  engaged  in  extensive  speculations,  and  thought  I 
could  make  use  of  it  to  advantage.  For  a  year  I  paid 
him  the  interest  regularly.  Then  there  came  a  great 
catastrophe,  and  I  found  my  brilliant  speculations 
were  but  bubbles,  which  broke  and  left  me  but  a 
mere  pittance,  instead  of  the  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars which  I  considered  myself  worth.  Of  course 
those  who  had  placed  money  in  my  hands  suffered,  and 
among  them  your  father.  I  confess  that  I  regretted 
his  loss  as  much  as  that  of  any  one,  for  I  liked  his 
straightforward  manner,  and  was  touched  by  his  evi- 
dent confidence  in  me." 

Mr.  Bates  paused  a  moment  and  then  resumed  : — 
"I  left  New  York,  and  went  to  Milwaukie.  Here 
I  was  obliged  to  begin  life  anew,  or  nearly  so,  for  I 
only  carried  a  thousand  dollars  out  with  me.  But  I 
have  been  greatly  prospered  since  then.  I  took 
warning  by  my  past  failures,  and  have  succeeded,  by 
care  and  good  fortune,  in  accumulating  nearly  as 
large  a  fortune  as  the  one  of  which  I  once  thought 
myself  possessed.  When  fortune  began  to  smile  upon 
me  I  thought  of  your  father,  and  tried  through  an 
agent  to  find  him  out.     But  he  reported  to  me  that 


28  MAIIK,    THE    MATCH   BOY ; 

his  name  was  not  to  be  found  either  in  the  New  York 
er  Brooklyn  Directory,  and  I  was  too  busily  en- 
gaged to  come  on  myself,  and  make  inquiries.  But 
I  am  glad  to  find  that  his  son  is  living,  and  that  I  yet 
have  it  in  my  power  to  make  restitution." 

Fosdick  could  hardly  believe  his  ears.  Was  he 
after  all  to  receive  the  money  which  he  had  supposed 
irrevocably  lost  ? 

As  for  Dick  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  he  felt 
even  more  pleased  at  the  prospective  good  fortune  u\ 
bin  friend  than  if  it  had  fallen  to  himself. 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER' S    WARD.  29 


CHAPTER    III. 


fosdick's  fortune. 


Mr.  Bates  took  from  Lis  pocket  a  memorandum 
book,  and  jotted  down  a  few  figures  in  it. 

"  As  nearly  as  I  can  remember,"  he  said,  "it  is 
four  years  since  I  ceased  paying  interest  on  the 
money  which  your  father  entrusted  to  me.  The  rate 
I  agreed  to  pay  was  six  per  cent.  How  much  will 
that  amount  to  ?  " 

"  Principal  and  interest  two  thousand  four  hun- 
dred and  eighty  dollars,"  said  Dick,  promptly. 

Fosdick's  breath  was  almost  taken  away  as  he 
heard  this  sum  mentioned.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
Mr.  Bates  intended  to  pay  him  as  much  as  this? 
Why,  it  would  be  a  fortune. 

"Your  figures  would  be  quite  correct,  Mr.  Hunter/' 
said  Mr.  Bates,  "but  for  one  consideration.  You  for- 
get that  your  friend  is  entitled  to  compound  interest, 
as  no  interest  has  been  paid  for  four  years      Now,  as 


50  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

you  are  do  doubt  used  to  figures,  I  will  leave  you  to 
make  the  necessary  correction." 

Mr.  Bates  tore  a  leaf  from  his  memorandum  book 
as  he  spoke,  and  handed  it  with  a  pencil  to  Richard 
Hunter. 

Dick  made  a  rapid  calculation,  and  reported  two 
thousand  five  hundred  and  twenty-four  dollars. 

"  It  seems,  then,  Mr.  Fosdick,"  said  Mr.  Bates, 
"  that  I  am  your  debtor  to  a  very  considerable 
amount." 

"You  are  very  kind,  sir,"  said  Fosdick ;  "but  I 
shall  be  quite  satisfied  with  the  two  thousand  dollars 
without  any  interest." 

"  Thank  you  for  offering  to  relinquish  the  interest ; 
but  ".t  is  only  right  that  I  should  pay  it.  I  have  had 
thf>  use  of  the  money,  and  I  certainly  would  not  wish 
to  defraud  you  of  a  penny  of  the  sum  which  it  took 
your  father  ten  years  of  industry  to  accumulate.  I 
wish  he  were  living  now  to  see  justice  done  his  son." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Fosdick,  earnestly.  "I beg  your 
pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"Why?"  asked  Mr.  Bates  in  a  tone  of  surprise. 

"Because,"  said  Fosdick,  "I  have  done  you  in- 
justice     I  thought  you  failed  in  order  to  make  money, 


CVJ,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  31 

and  intended  to  cheat  my  father  out  of  his  savings. 
That  made  me  feel  hard  towards  you." 

"  You  were  justified  in  feeling  so,"  said  Mr.  Bates. 
"  Such  cases  are  so  common  that  I  am  not  surprised 
at  your  opinion  of  me.  I  ought  to  have  explained 
my  position  to  your  father,  and  promised  to  mako 
restitution  whenever  it  should  be  in  my  power.  But 
at  the  time  I  was  discouraged,  and  could  not  foresee 
the  favorable  turn  which  my  affairs  have  since  taken. 
Now,"  he  added,  with  a  change  of  voice,  "we  will 
arrange  about  the  payment  of  this  money." 

"  Do  not  pay  it  until  it  is  convenient,  Mr.  Bates," 
said  Fosdick. 

"  Your  proposal  is  kind,  but  scarcely  business-like, 
Mr.  Fosdick,"  said  Mr.  Bates.  "  Fortunately  it  will 
occasion  me  no  inconvenience  to  pay  you  at  once  I 
have  not  the  ready  money  with  me  as  you  may  sup- 
pose, but  I  will  give  you  a  cheque  for  the  amount 
upon  the  Broadway  Bank,  with  which  I  have  an  ac- 
count; and  it  will  be  duly  honored  on  presentation 
to-morrow.  You  may  in  return  make  out  a  receipt 
in  full  for  the  debt  and  interest.  Wait  a  moment. 
I  will  ring  for  writing  materials." 

These  were  soon  brought  by  a  servant  of  the  hotel 


32  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

and  Mr.  Bates  filled  in  a  cheque  for  the  sum  speci- 
fied above,  while  Fosdick,  scarcely  knowing  whether 
he  was  awake  or  dreaming,  made  out  a  receipt  to 
which  he  attached  his  name. 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Bates,  "we  will  exchange 
documents." 

Fosdick  took  the  cheque,  and  deposited  it  care- 
fully in  his  pocket-book. 

"  It  is  possible  that  payment  might  be  refused  to 
a  boy  like  you,  especially  as  the  amount  is  so  large. 
At  what  time  will  you  be  disengaged  to-mor- 
row?" 

"lam  absent  from  the  store  from  twelve  to  one 
for  dinner. " 

"  Very  well,  come  to  the  hotel  as  soon  as  you  are 
free,  and  I  will  accompany  you  to  the  bank,  and  get 
the  money  for  you.  I  advise  you,  however,  to  leave 
it  there  on  deposit  until  you  have  a  chance  to 
invest  it." 

"  How  would  you  advise  me  to  invest  it,  sir?" 
asked  Fosdick. 

"  Perhaps  you  cannot  do  better  than  buy  shares 
of  some  good  bank.  You  will  then  have  no  care  ex- 
cept to  collect  your  dividends  twice  a  year." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  33 

st  That  is  what  I  should  like  to  do,"  said  Fosdick. 
1  What  bank  would  you  advise?" 

"  The  Broadway,  Park,  or  Bank  of  Commerce, 
are  all  good  banks.  I  will  attend  to  the  matter  for 
you,  if  you  desire  it." 

"I  should  be  very  glad  if  you  would,  sir." 

"  Then  that  matter  is  settled,"  said  Mr.  Bates. 
"  I  wish  I  could  as  easily  settle  another  matter 
which  has  brought  me  to  New  York  at  this  time, 
and  which,  I  confess,  occasions  me  considerable 
perplexity." 

The  boys  remained  respectfully  silent,  though  not 
without  curiosity  as  to  what  this  matter  might 
be. 

Mr.  Bates  seemed  plunged  in  thought  for  a  short 
time.  Then  speaking,  as  if  to  himself,  he  said,  in  a 
low  voice,  "Why  should  I  not  tell  them?  Per- 
haps they  may  help  me." 

"I  believe,"  he  said,  "I  will  take  you  into  my 
confidence.  You  may  be  able  to  render  me  some 
assistance  in  my  perplexing  business." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  help  you  if  I  can,"  said 
Dick. 

u  And  I  also,"  said  Fosdick. 
8 


34  MARK,    THE    MATCH   BOY; 

"I  have  come  to  New  York  in  seal zh.  of  mj 
gTandson,"  said  Mr.  Bates. 

"  Did  he  run  away  from  home  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  No,  he  has  never  lived  with  me.  Indeed,  I  may 
add  that  I  have  never  seen  him  since  he  was  an 
infant/' 

The  boys  looked  surprised. 

"  How  old  is  he  now?  "  asked  Fosclick. 
'  He   must  be  about  ten  years  old.     But  I  see 
that  I  must  give  you  the  whole  story  of  what  is  a 
painful  passage  in  my  life,   or  you  will  be  in  no 
position  to  help  me. 

"  You  must  know,  then,  that  twelve  years  since  I 
considered  myself  rich,  and  lived  in  a  handsome 
house  up  town.  My  wife  was  dead,  but  I  had  an 
only  daughter,  who  I  believe  was  generally  consid- 
ered attractive,  if  not  beautiful.  I  had  set  my  heart 
upon  her  making  an  advantageous  marriage ;  that  is, 
marrying  a  man  of  wealth  and  social  position.  I  had 
in  my  employ  a  clerk,  of  excellent  business  abilities, 
and  of  good  personal  appearance,  whom  I  sometimes 
invited  to  my  house  when  I  entertained  company. 
His  name  was  John  Talbot.  I  never  suspected  that 
tiiere  was  any  danger   of  my  daughter's  falling  in 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER? S    WARD.  SO 

love  with  the  young  man,  until  one  day  he  came  to 
me  and  overwhelmed  mj  with  surprise  by  asking 
her  hand  in  marriage. 

"  You  can  imagine  that  I  was  very  angry, 
whether  justly  or  not  I  will  not  pretend  to  say.  I 
dismissed  the  young  man  from  my  employ,  and  in- 
formed him  that  never,  under  any  circumstances, 
would  I  consent  to  his  marrying  Irene.  He  was  a 
high-spirited  young  man,  and,  though  he  did  not 
answer  me,  I  saw  by  the  expression  of  his  face  that 
he  meant  to  persevere  in  his  suit. 

"  A  week  later  my  daughter  was  missing.  She 
left  behind  a  letter  stating  that  she  could  not  give 
up  John  Talbot,  and  by  the  time  I  read  the  letter 
she  would  be  his  wife.  Two  days  later  a  Philadel- 
phia paper  was  sent  me  containing  a  printed  notice  of 
their  marriage,  and  the  same  mail  brought  me  a 
joint  letter  from  both,  asking  my  forgiveness. 

"  I  had  no  objections  to  John  Talbot  except  his 
poverty ;  but  my  ambitious  hopes  were  disappointed, 
and  I  felt  the  blow  severely.  I  returned  the  letter 
to  the  address  given,  accompanied  by  a  brief  line  to 
Irene,  to  the  effect  that  I  disowned  her,  and  would 
never  more  acknowledge  her  as  my  daughter. 


86  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY ; 

11 1  saw  her  only  once  after  that.  Two  years  after 
ehe  appeared  suddenly  in  my  library,  having  been 
admitted  by  the  servant,  with  a  child  in  her  arms. 
But  I  hardened  my  heart  against  her,  and  though 
she  besought  my  forgiveness,  I  refused  it,  and  re- 
quested her  to  leave  the  house.  I  cannot  forgive  my- 
aelf  when  I  think  of  my  unfeeling  severity.  But  it 
is  too  late  too  redeem  the  past.  As  for  as  I  can  I 
would  like  to  atone  for  it. 

"  A  month  since  I  heard  that  both  Irene  and  her 
husband  were  dead,  the  latter  five  years  since,  but 
that  the  ehild,  a  boy,  is  still  living,  probably  in  deep 
poverty.  He  is  my  only  descendant,  and  I  seek  to 
find  him,  hoping  that  he  may  be  a  joy  and  solace  to 
me  in  the  old  age  which  will  soon  be  upon  me.  It 
is  for  the  purpose  of  tracing  him  that  I  have  come  to 
New  York.  When  you,  turning  to  Fosdick,  referred 
to  your  being  compelled  to  resort  to  the  streets,  and 
the  hard  life  of  a  boot-black,  the  thought  came  to  me 
that  my  grandson  may  be  reduced  to  a  similar  ex- 
tremity. It  would  be  hard  indeed  that  he  should 
grow  up  ignorant,  neglected,  and  subject  to  every 
privation,  when  a  comfortable  and  even  luxurious 
home  awaits  him,  if  he  can  only  be  found." 


On,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  37 

11  What  is  his  name?  "  inquired  Dick. 

"My  impression  is,  that  he  was  named  after  hia 
father,  John  Talbot.  Indeed,  I  am  quite  sure  that 
my  daughter  wrote  me  to  this  effect  in  a  letter  which 
I  returned  after  reading." 

"  Have  you  reason  to  think  he  is  in  New  York  ?  " 

"My  information  is,  that  his  mother  died  here  a 
year  since.  It  is  not  likely  that  he  has  been  able  to 
leave  the  city." 

"  He  is  about  ten  years  old?  " 

"  I  used  to  know  most  of  the  boot-blacks  and  news- 
Doys  when  I  was  in  the  business,"  said  Dick,  reflect- 
ively ;    "  but  I  cannot  recall  that  name." 

"Were  you  ever  in  the  business,  Mr.  Hunter?' 
asked  Mr.  Bates,  in  surprise. 

"Ye?,"  said  Richard  Hunter,  smiling;  "I  used 
to  be  or  e  of  the  most  ragged  boot-blacks  in  the  city. 
Don  t  /ou  remember  my  Washington  coat,  and  Na- 
poleon pants,  Fosdick?" 

"  I  remember  them  well." 

"  Surely  that  was  many  years  ago?  " 

"  It  is  not  yet  two  years  sinw  I  gave  up  blacking 
boots." 

"  You  surprise  me  Mr.  Hunter,"  said  Mr.  Bates 


38  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

11 1  congratulate  you  on  your  advance  in  life.  Such 
a  rise  shows  remarkable  energy  on  your  part.'-' 

" 1  was  lucky,"  said  Dick,  modestly.  "I  found 
some  good  friends  who  helped  me  along.  But  about 
your  grandson :  I  have  quite  a  number  of  friends 
among  the  street-boys,  and  I  can  inquire  of  them 
whether  any  boy  named  John  Talbot  has  joined  their 
ranks  since  my  time." 

"  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged  to  you  if  you  will," 
said  Mr.  Bates.  "  But  it  is  quite  possible  that  cir- 
cumstances may  have  led  to  a  change  of  name,  so 
that  it  will  not  do  to  trust  too  much  to  this.  Even 
if  no  boy  bearing  that  name  is  found,  I  shall  feel 
that  there  is  this  possibility  in  my  favor." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Dick.  "It  is  very  common 
for  boys  to  change  their  name.  Some  can't  remem- 
ber whether  they  ever  had  any  names,  and  pick 
one  out  to  suit  themselves,  or  perhaps  get  one  from 
those  they  go  with.  There  was  one  boy  I  knew 
named  '  Horace  Greeley.'  Then  there  were  '  Fat 
Jack,'  'Pickle  Nose,'  'Cranky  Jim,'  '  Tickle-me- 
foot,'  and  plenty  of  others.*  You  knew  some  of 
them,  didn't  you,  Fosdick  ?  " 

*  See  sketches  of  the  Formation  of  thp  Newsboys'  1  oagi  (g-house  by 
C.  L.  Brace,  Secretary  of  the  Children's  Aid  Society. 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  39 

"  I  knew  '  Fat  Jack  '  and  '  Tickle-me-Foot,'  "  an- 
swered Fosdick. 

"  This  of  course  increases  the  difficulty  of  find- 
ing and  identifying  the  boy,"  said  Mr.  Bates. 
"  Here,"  he  said,  taking  a  card  photograph  from  his 
pocket,  "is  a  picture  of  my  daughter  at  the  time 
of  her  marriage.  I  have  had  these  taken  from  a 
portrait  in  my  possession." 

"Can  you  spare  me  one?"  asked  Dick.  "It 
may  help  me  to  find  the  boy." 

"  I  will  give  one  to  each  of  you.  I  need  not  say 
that  I  shall  feel  most  grateful  for  any  service  you 
may  be  able  to  render  me,  and  will  gladly  reimburse 
any  expenses  you  may  incur,  besides  paying  you 
liberally  for  your  time.  It  will  be  better  perhaps 
for  me  to  lea^e  fifty  dollars  with  each  of  you  to  de- 
fray any  expenses  you  may  be  at." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Dick;  "  but  I  am  well  sup- 
plied with  money,  and  will  advance  whatever  is  need- 
ful, and  if  I  succeed  I  will  hand  in  my  bill." 

Fosdick  expressed  himself  in  a  similar  way, 
and  after  some  further  conversation  he  and  Dick 
rose  to  go. 

"  I  congratulate   you  on  your  wealth,  Fosdick,' 


40  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY; 

said  Dick,  when  they  were  outside.  "  You're  rich- 
er than  I  am  now." 

"  I  never  should  have  got  this  money  but  for  you, 
Dick.     I  wish  you'd  take  some  of  it." 

"  Well,  I  will.  You  may  pay  my  fare  home  on 
the  horse-cars." 

"But  really  I  wish  you  would." 

But  this  Dick  positively  refused  to  do,  as  might 
have  been  expected.  He  was  himself  the  owner  of 
two  up-town  lots,  which  he  eventually  sold  for  five 
thousand  dollars,  though  they  only  cost  him  one, 
and  had  three  hundred  dollars  besides  in  the  bank. 
He  agreed,  however,  to  let  Fosdick  henceforth  bear 
his  share  of  the  expenses  of  board,  and  this  added 
two  dollars  a  week  to  the  sum  he  was  able  to  lay 
up, 


OB,    RICHARD    H OXTER'S    WARD.  41 


CHAPTER   IV. 


A    DIFFICULT    COMMISSION. 


It  need  hardly  be  said  that  Fosdick  was  punc* 
tual  to  his  appointment  at  the  Astor  House  on  the 
following  day. 

He  found  Mr.  Bates  in  the  reading-room,  looking 
over  a  Milwaukie  paper. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Fosdick,"  he  said,  extend- 
ing his  hand.  "I  suppose  your  time  is  limited, 
therefore  it  will  be  best  for  us  to  go  at  once  to  the 
bank." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir,  to  take  so  much  trouble 
on  my  account,"  said  Fosdick. 

"We  ought  all  to  help  each  other,"  said  Mr. 
Bates.  "I  believe  in  that  doctrine,  though  I  have 
not  always  lived  up  to  it.  On  second  thoughts," 
he  added,  as  they  got  out  in  front  of  the  hotel,  "  if 
you  approve  of  my  suggestions  about  the  pur- 
chase of  bank  shares,  it  may  not  be  necessary  to  go 


42  MAIiK,    THE   MATCH   BOY / 

to  the  bank,  as  you  can  take  thi3  cheque  in  pay* 
ment," 

"  Just  as  jou  tliink  best,  sir.  I  can  depend  upon 
your  judgment,  as  you  know  much  more  of  such 
things  than  I." 

"  Then  we  will  go  at  once  to  the  office  of  Mr. 
Ferguson,  a  Wall  Street  broker,  and  an  old  friend 
of  mine.  There  we  will  give  an  order  for  some 
bank  shares." 

Together  the  two  walked  down  Broadway  until 
they  reached  Trinity  Church,  which  fronts  the 
entrance  to  Wall  Street.  Here  then  they  crossed 
the  street,  and  soon  reached  the  office  of  Mr.  Fer- 
guson. 

Mr.  Ferguson,  a  pleasant-looking  man  with  sandy 
hair  and  whiskers,  came  forward  and  shook  Mr.  Bates 
cordially  by  the  hand. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Bates,"  he  said.  "  Where 
have  you  been  for  the  last  four  years  ?  : ' 

1 '  In  Milwaukie.  I  see  you  are  ai  the  old 
place." 

"Yes,  plodding  along  as  usual.  How  do  you 
like  the  West?" 

"  I  have  found  it  a  good  place  for  business,  though 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  43 

[  am  not  sure  whether  I  like  it  as  well  to  livi   in  as 
New  York." 

"  Shan't   you  come   back    to  New    York    lome 
time?" 

Mr.  Bates  shook  his  head. 

"  My  business  ties  me  to  Milwaukie,"  he  raid. 
"  I  doubt  if  I  ever  return." 

"Who  is  this  young  man?"  said  the  brolir, 
looking  at  Fosdick.  "He  is  not  a  son  of  yours  I 
think?  " 

"  No;  I  am  not  fortunate  enough  to  have  a  SO3  . 
He   is   a   young   friend  who  wants  a  little  businet  \ 
done  in  your  line  and,  I  have  accordingly  brough 
him  to   you." 

"  We  will  do  our  best  for  him.     What  is  it?  " 

"  He  wants  to  purchase  twenty  shares  in  som< 
good  city  bank.  I  used  to  know  all  about  such  mat 
ters  when  I  lived  in  the  city,  but  I  am  out  of  th* 
way  of  such  knowledge  now." 

"  Twenty  shares,  you  said?" 

"  Yes." 

"  It  happens  quite  oddly  that  a  party  brought  in 

only  fifteen  minutes  since  twenty  shares  in  the 

Bank    to   dispose   of.     It    is   a   good   bank,  and  1 


44  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

don't  know  that  he  can  do  any  better  than  take 
them." 

"Yes.it  is  a  good  bank.  What  interest  does  it 
i&y  now?  " 

"  Eight  per  cent."* 

"  That  is  good.  What  is  the  market  value  of  the 
stock?" 

"  It  is  selling  this  morning  at  one  hundred  and 
twenty." 

"  Twenty  shares  then  will  amount  to  twenty-four 
hundred  dollars." 

"  Precisely." 

"  Well,  perhaps  w7e  had  better  take  them.  What 
do  you  say,  Mr.  Fosdick  ?  " 

"If  you  advise  it,  sir,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
do  so." 

"  Then  the  business  can  be  accomplished  at  once, 
as  the  party  left  us  his  signature,  authorizing  the 
transfer." 

The  transfer  was  rapidly  effected.  The  broker's 
commission  of  twenty-five  cents  per  share  amounted 
to  five  dollars.  It  was  found  on  paying  this,  added 
to  the  purchase  money,  that  one  hundred  and  nine- 

*  This  was  before  the  war.    Now  most  of  the  National  Banks  in  New 
York  pay  ten  per  cent.,  and  some  even  higher. 


OH,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  45 

teen  dollars  remained,  —  the  cheque  being  for  two 
thousand  five  hundred  and  twenty-four  dollars. 

The  broker  took  the  cheque,  and  returned  thia 
sum,  which  Mr.  Bates  handed  to  Fosdick. 

"  You  may  need  this  for  a  reserve  fund,"  he  said, 
"  to  draw  upon  if  needful  until  your  dividend  comes 
due.  The  bank  shares  will  pay  you  probably  ono 
hundred  and  sixty  dollars  per  year." 

"  One  hundred  and  sixty  dollars  !  "  repeated  Fos- 
dick, in  surprise.  "  That  is  a  little  more  than  three 
dollars  a  week." 

"Yes." 

"  It  will  be  very  acceptable,  as  my  salary  at  the 
store  is  not  enough  to  pay  my  expenses." 

"I  would  advise  you  not  to  break  in  upon  your 
capital  if  you  can  avoid  it,"  said  Mr.  Bates.  "By 
and  by,  if  your  salary  increases,  you  may  be  able  to 
add  the  interest  yearly  to  the  principal,  so  that 
it  may  be  accumulating  till  you  are  a  man,  wheD 
you  may  find  it  of  use  in  setting  you  up  in  busi- 
ness." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  will  remember  that.  But  I  can 
hardly  realize  that  I  am  really  the  owner  of  twenty 
bank  shares." 


46  MARK,    THE   MATCII  BOt ; 

1 '  No  ctaubt  it  seems  sudden  to  you.  Don  t  lei 
it  make  you  extravagant.  Most  boys  of  your  age 
would  need  a  guardian,  but  you  have  had  so  much 
experience  in  taking  care  of  yourself,  that  I  think 
you  can  get  along  without  one." 

"  I  have  my  friend  Dick  to  advise  me,"  said  Fos 
dick. 

"Mr.  Hunter  seems  quite  a  remarkable  young 
man,"  said  Mr.  Bates.  "I  can  hardly  believe  that 
his  past  history  has  been  as  he  gave  it." 

"It  is  strictly  true,  sir.  Three  years  ago  ho 
could  not  read  or  write." 

"If  he  continues  to  display  the  same  energy,  I 
can  predict  for  him  a  prominent  position  in  the 
future." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  sir.  Dick  is  a 
very  dear  friend  of  mine." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Fosdick,  it  is  time  you  were  thinking 
of  dinner.     I  believe  this  is  your  dinner  hour  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  it  is  nearly  over.  You  must  be  my  guest 
to-day.  I  know  of  a  quiet  little  lunch  room  near 
by,  wlr.ch  I  used  to  frequent  some  years  ago  when  I 
was  in  business  on  this  street.    We  will  drop  in  there 


on,    F.ICHARD   hunter's    WARD.  A'i 

and  1  think  you  will  be  able  to  get  through  in 
time." 

Fosdick  could  not  well  decline  the  invitation,  but 
accompanied  Mr.  Bates  to  the  place  referred  to, 
wnere  he  had  a  better  meal  than  he  was  accustomed 
to.  It  was  finished  in  time,  for  as  the  clock  on 
the  city  hall  struck  one,  he  reached  the  door  of 
Henderson's   store. 

Fosdick  could  not  very  well  banish  from  his  mind 
the  thoughts  of  his  extraordinary  change  of  fortune, 
and  I  am  obliged  to  confess  that  he  did  not  discharge 
his  duties  quite  as  faithfully  as  usual  that  afternoon. 
T  will  mention  one  rather  amusing  instance  of  his 
preoccupation   of  mind. 

A  lady  entered  tin  store,  leading  by  the  hand  her 
son  Edwin,  a  little  boy  of  seven. 

"  Have  you  any  hats  that  will  fit  my  little  boy?  " 
she  said. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Fosdick,  absently,  and 
brought  forward  a  large-sized  man's  hat,  of  the  kind 
popularly  known  as  "  stove-pipe." 

"  How  will  thfe  cio?  "  asked  Fosdick. 

"  I  don't  want  to  wear  such  an  ugly  hat  as  that," 
said  Edwin,  in  dismay. 


48  MARK,    THE   MATCH  B01 

The  lady  looked  at  Fosdick  as  i?  ohe  had  very 
strong  doubts  of  his  sanity.  He  saw  his  mistake, 
and,  coloring  deeply,  said,  in  a  hurried  tone,  "Ex- 
cuse me:  I  was  thinking  of  something  else." 

The  next  selection  proved  more  satisfactory,  and 
Edwin  went  out  of  the  store  feeling  quite  proud  of 
his  new  hat. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  Fosdick  was 
surprised  at  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Bates.  He  came 
up  to  the  counter  where  he  was  standing,  and  said, 
"I  am  glad  I  have  found  you  in.  I  was  not  quite 
sure  if  this  was  the  place  where  }ou  were  em- 
ployed." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  sir,"  saiil  Fosdick. 

"I  have  just  received  a  telegram  from  Mil wau- 
kie,"  said  Mr.  Bates,  "summoning  me  home  imme- 
diately on  matters  connected  with  business.  I  shall 
not  therefore  be  able  to  remain  here  to  follow  up  the 
search  upon  which  I  had  entered.  As  you  and  your 
friend  have  kindly  offered  your  assistance,  I  am 
going  to  leave  the  matter  in  your  hands,  and  will 
authorize  you  to  incur  any  expenses  you  may  deem 
advisable,  and  I  will  gladly  reimburse  you  whether 
you  succeed  or  not." 


OR,   RICHARD   HUNTER' S    WARD.  49 

Fosdick  assured  him  that  they  would  spare  no 
efforts,  and  Mr.  Bates,  after  briefly  thanking  him, 
and  giving  him  his  address,  hurried  away,  as  he  had 
determined  to  start  on  his  return  home  that  very 
night. 


50  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY i 


CHAPTER  V. 

INTRODUCES  MARK,  THE  MATCII  BOY. 

It  was  growing  dark,  though  yet  scarcely  six  o'clock, 
for  the  day  was  one  of  the  shortest  in  the  year,  when 
a  small  boy,  thinly  clad,  turned  down  Frankfort 
Street  on  the  corner  opposite  French's  Hotel.  He 
had  come  up  Nassau  Street,  passing  the  "  Tribune  " 
Office  and  the  old  Tammany  Hall,  now  superseded 
by  the  substantial  new  "  Sun  "  building. 

He  had  a  box  of  matches  under  his  arm,  of  which 
very  few  seemed  to  have  been  sold.  He  had  a  weary, 
spiritless  air,  and  walked  as  if  cpuite  tired.  He  had 
been  on  his  feet  all  day,  and  was  faint  with  hunger, 
having  eaten  nothing  but  an  apple  to  sustain  his 
strength.  The  thought  that  he  was  near  his  jour- 
ney's end  did  not  seem  to  cheer  him  much.  Whj 
this  should  be  so  will  speedily  appear. 

He  crossed  William  Street,  passed  Gold  Street, 
and  turned  down  Vandewater  Street,  loading  out  of 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  yl 

Frankfort's  Street  on  the  left.  It  is  in  the  form  of  a 
short  curve,  connecting  with  that  most  crooked  of  all 
New  York  avenues,  Pearl  Street.  He  paused  in 
front  of  a  shabby  house,  and  went  upstairs.  The 
door  of  a  room  on  the  third  floor  was  standing  ajar. 
He  pushed  it  open,  and  entered,  not  without  a  kind 
of  shrinking. 

A  coarse-looking  woman  was  seated  before  a  scanty 
fire.  She  had  just  thrust  a  bottle  into  her  pocket 
after  taking  a  copious  draught  therefrom,  and  her 
flushed  face  showed  that  this  had  long  been  a  habit 
with  her. 

"  Well,  Mark,  what  luck  to-night  ?  "  she  said,  in  a 
husky  voice. 

"  I  didn't  sell  much,"  said  the  boy. 

"  Didn't  sell  much?  Come  here,"  said  the  woman, 
sharply. 

Mark  came  up  to  her  side,  and  she  snatched  the 
box  from  him,  angrily. 

"  Only  three  boxes  gone?"  she  repeated.  "What 
have  you  been  doing  all  day  ?  " 

She  added  to  the  question  a  coarse  epithet  which 
1  bhall  not  repeat. 

"  I  tried  to  sell  them,  indeed  I  did,  Mother  Watson, 


52  MARK,    TJIE   MATCH    BOY', 

indeed  I  did,"'  said  the  boy,  earnestly,  'but  every* 
body  had  bought  them  already." 

"You  didn't  try,"  said  the  woman  addressed  aa 
Mother  Watson  "You're  too  lazy,  that's  what'a 
the  matter.  You  don't  earn  your  salt.  Now  give 
me  the  money." 

Mark  drew  from  his  pocket  a  few  pennies,  and 
handed  to  her. 

She  counted  them  over,  and  then,  looking  up 
sharply,  said,  with  a  frown,  "  There's  a  penny  short. 
Where  is  it?" 

"  I  was  so  hungry,"  pleaded  Mark,  "  that  I  bought 
an  apple,  —  only  a  little  one." 

"  You  bought  an  apple,  did  you?  "  said  the  wom- 
an, menacingly.  "  So  that's  the  way  you  spend 
my  money,  you  little  thief?" 

"  I  was  so  faint  and  hungry,"  again  pleaded  the 
boy. 

"  What  business  had  you  to  be  hungry?  Didn't 
y^u  have  some  breakfast  this  morning?" 

"  I  had  a  piece  of  bread." 

''That's  more  than  you  earned.  You'll  eat  me 
out  of  house  and  home,  you  little  thief!  But  I'll 
pay  you  off.     I'll  give  you  something  to  take  away 


OR,    RICHARU   HUNTER'S    WARD.  53 

your  appetite.  You  won't  be  hungry  any  more>  I 
reckon."  * 

She  dove  her  flabby  hand  into  her  pocket,  and 
produced  a  strap,  at  which  the  boy  gazed  with  fright- 
ened look. 

"Don't  beat  me,  Mother  Watson,"  he  said,  im- 
ploringly. 

"  I'll  beat  the  lazinessout  of  you,"  said  the  woman, 
vindictively.     "  See  if  I  don't." 

She  clutched  Mark  by  the  collar,  and  was  about 
to  bring  the  strap  down  forcibly  upon  his  back,  ill 
protected  by  his  thin  jacket,  when  a  visitor  entered 
the  room. 

"What's  the  matter,  Mrs.  Watson?"  asked  the 
intruder. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Mrs.  Flanagan?"  said  the  woman, 
holding  the  strap  suspended  in  the  air.  "I'll  tell  you 
what's  the  matter.  This  little  thief  has  come  home, 
after  selling  only  three  boxes  of  matches  the  whole 
day,  and  I  find  he's  stole  a  penny  to  buy  an  apple 
with.     It's  for  that  I'm  goin'  to  beat  him." 

"  Oh,  let  him  alone,  the  poor  lad,"  said  Mrs.  Flan- 
agan, who  was  a  warm-hearted  Irish  woman.  "  Mayb« 
he  was  hungry." 


54  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY, 

"  Then  why  didn't  ho  work  ?  Them  that  work  can 
eat." 

"  Maybe  people  didn't  want  to  buy." 

"  Well,  I  can't  aftbrd  to  keep  him  h+  his  idleness,'' 
said  Mrs.  Watson.  "  He  may  go  to  bed  without  hia 
supper." 

"  If  he  can't  sell  his  matches,  maybe  people  would 
give  him  something." 

Mrs.  Watson  evidently  thought  favorably  of  this 
suggestion,  for,  turning  to  Mark,  she  said,  "  Go 
out  again,  you  little  thief,  and  mind  you  don't  come 
in  again  till  you've  got  twenty-five  cents  to  bring  to 
me.     Do  you  mind  that?  " 

Mark  listened,  but  stood  irresolute. 

"I  don't  like  to  beg,"  he  said. 

"Don't  like  to  beg!"  screamed  Mrs.  Watson. 
"  Do  you  mind  that,  now,  Mrs.  Flanagan  ?  He's 
too  proud  to  beg." 

u  Mother  told  me  never  io  beg  if  I  could  help  it," 
jaid  Mark. 

"  Well,  you  can't  help  it,"  said  the  woman,  flour- 
ishing the  strap  i  i  a  threatening  manner.  "  Do  you 
see  this  ?" 

"  Yes." 


on,  nicRARD  hunter's  ward.  55 

"  Well,  you'll  feel  it  too,  if  you  don't  do  as  I  tell 
you.     Go  out  now." 

"  I'm  so  hungry,"  said  Mark;  "  won't  you  give 
me  a  piece  of  bread  ?  " 

"  Not  a  mouthful  till  you  bring  back  twenty-five 
cents.      Start  now,  or  you'll  feel  the  strap." 

The  boy  left  the  room  with  a  slow  step,  and 
wearily  descended  the  stairs.  I  hope  my  young 
readers  will  never  know  the  hungry  craving  after 
food  which  tormented  the  poor  little  boy  as  he  made 
made  his  way  towards  the  street.  But  he  had  hardly 
reached  the  foot  of  the  first  staircase  when  he  heard 
a  low  voice  behind  him,  and,  turning,  beheld  Mrs. 
Flanagan,  who  had  hastily  followed  after  him. 

"  Are  you  very  hungry  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  I'm  faint  with  hunger." 

"Poor  boy!"  she  said,  compassionately;  "coma 
in  here  a  minute." 

She  opened  the  door  of  her  own  room  which  was 
just  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  and  gently  pushed 
him  in 

It  was  a  room  of  the  same  general  appearance  ag 
the  one  above,  but  was  much  neater  looking. 

"  Biddy  Flanagan  isn't  the  woman  to  let  a  poor 


56  MAJIK,    THE   MATCH   BOY; 

motherless  child  go  hungry  when  she's  a  bit  of  bread 
or  meat  by  her.  Here,  Mark,  lad,  sit  down,  and  I'll 
soon  bring  you  something  that'll  warm  up  your  poor 
Btomach." 

She  opened  a  cupboard,  and  brought  out  a  plate 
containing  a  small  quantity  of  cold  beef,  and  two 
slices  of  bread. 

"  There's  some  better  mate  than  you'll  get  of 
Mother  Watson.     It's  cold,  but  it's  good." 

"  She  never  gives  me  any  meat  at  all,"  said  Mark, 
gazing  with  a  look  of  eager  anticipation  at  the  plate 
which  to  his  famished  eye  looked  so  inviting. 

"I'll  be  bound  she  don't,"  said  Mrs.  Flanagan. 
"Talk  of  you  being  lazy!  What  does  she  do  her- 
self but  sit  all  day  doing  nothin'  except  drink  whis- 
key from  the  black  bottle !  She  might  get  washin' 
to  do,  as  I  do,  if  she  wanted  to,  but  she  won't  work. 
She  expects  you  to  get  money  enough  for  both  of 
you." 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Flanagan  had  poured  out  a  cup 
of  tea  from  an  old  tin  teapot  that  stood  on  the  stove. 

"■  There,  drink  that,  Mark  dear,"  she  said.  "  It'll 
arm  you  up,  and  you'll  need  it  this  cold  night,  I'm 
thinkin'.  " 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  57 

The  tea  was  not  of  the  best  quality,  and  the  cup 
was  cracked  and  discolored;  but  to  Mark  it  was  grate- 
ful and  refreshing,  and  he  eagerly  drank  it. 

"Is  it  good?"  asked  the  sympathizing  woman, 
observing  with  satisfaction  the  eagerness  with  which 
it  was  drunk. 

"  Yes,  it  makes  me  feel  "warm,"  said  Mark. 

"  It's  better  nor  the  whiskey  Mother  "Watson 
drinks,"  said  Mrs.  Flanagan.  "  It  won't  make  your 
nose  red  like  hers.  It  would  be  a  sight  better  for 
her  if  she'd  throw  away  the  whiskey,  and  take  to  the 
tea." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Mrs.  Flanagan,"  said  Mark, 
rising  from  the  table,  feeling  fifty  per  cent,  better 
than  when  he  sat  down. 

"  Oh  bother  now,  don't  say  a  word  about  it !  Shure 
you're  welcome  to  the  bit  you've  eaten,  and  the  littl* 
sup  of  tea.  Come  in  again  when  you  feel  hungry 
and  Bridget  Flanagan  won't  be  the  woman  to  seno 
you  off  hungry  if  she's  got  anything  in  the  cupboard." 

"  I  wish  Mother  Watson  was  as  good  as  you  are,'* 
said  Mark. 

"I  aint  so  good  as  I  might  be,"  said  Mrs.  Flana- 
gan;  "but  1  wouldn't  be  guilty  of  tratin'  a  poor 


68  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY, 

boy  as  that  woman  trates  you,  more  shame  to  1  x ! 
How  came  you  with  her  any  way  ?  She  aint  youi 
mother,  is  she." 

"  No,"  said  Mark,  shuddering  at  the  bare  idea. 
"  My  mother  was  a  good  woman,  and  worked  hard. 
She  didn't  drink  whiskey.  Mother  was  always  kind 
to  me.     I  wish  she  was  alive  now." 

"When  did  she  die,  Mark  dear?  " 

"  It's  going  on  a  year  since  she  died.  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do,  but  Mother  Watson  told  me  to 
come  and  live  with  her,  and  she'd  take  care  of  me." 

"  Sorra  a  bit  of  kindness  there  was  in  that,"  com- 
mented Mrs.  Flanagan.  "  She  wanted  you  to  take 
care  of  her.     Well,  and  what  did  she  make  you  do  ?  " 

"  She  sent  me  out  to  earn  what  I  could.  Some- 
times I  would  run  on  errands,  but  lately  I  have  sold 
matches." 

"  la  it  hard  work  sellin'  them  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  I  do  pretty  well,  but  some  days  'it 
Beems  as  if  nobody  wanted  any.  To-day  I  went 
round  to  a  great  many  offices,  but  they  all  had  as 
many  as  they  wanted,  and  I  didn't  sell  but  three 
boxes.  I  tried  to  sell  more,  indeed  I  did,  but  I 
couldn't." 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER* S    WARD.  6S 

11  No  doubt  you  did,  Mark,  dear.  It's  cold  you 
must  be  in  that  thin  jacket  of  yours  this  cold  weather. 
I've  got  a  shawl  you  may  wear  if  you  like.  You'll 
not  lose  it,  I  know." 

But  Mark  had  a  boy's  natural  dislike  to  being 
dressed  as  a  girl,  knowing,  moreover,  that  his  appear 
ance  in  the  street  with  Mrs.  Flanagan's  shawl  would 
subject  him  to  the  jeers  of  the  street  boys.  So  he 
declined  the  offer  with  thanks,  and,  buttoning  up  his 
thin  jacket,  descended  the  remaining  staircase,  and 
went  out  again  into  the  chilling  and  uninviting  street. 
A  chilly,  drizzling  rain  had  just  set  in,  and  this 
made  it  even  more  dreary  than  it  had  been  during 
the  day. 


60 


MARK,    THE  MATCH  BOJ / 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BEN  GIBSON. 

But  it  was  not  so  much  the  storm  or  the  coM 
weather  that  Mark  cared  for.  He  had  become  used 
to  these,  so  far  as  one  can  become  used  to  what  is 
very  disagreeable.  If  after  a  hard  day's  work  ho 
had  had  a  good  home  to  come  back  to,  or  a  kind  and 
sympathizing  friend,  he  would  have  had  that  thought 
to  cheer  him  up.  But  Mother  Watson  cared  nothing 
for  him,  except  for  the  money  he  brought  her,  and 
Mark  found  it  impossible  either  to  cherish  love  or 
respect  for  the  coarse  woman  whom  he  generally 
found  more  or  less  affected  by  whiskey. 

Cold  and  hungry  as  he  had  been  oftentimes,  he  had 
always  shrunk  from  begging.  It  seemed  to  lower 
him  in  his  own  thoughts  to  ask  charity  of  others. 
Mother  Watson  had  suggested  it  to  him  once  or  twice, 
but  had  never  actually  commanded  it  before.  Now 
he  was  required  to  bring  home  twenty-five  cents.   He 


a 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  61 

knew  very  well  what  would  be  the  result  if  he  failed 
to  do  this.  Mother  Watson  would  apply  the  leather 
strap  with  merciless  fury,  and  he  knew  that  his 
strength  was  as  nothing  compared  to  hers.  So,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  felt  that  he  must  make 
up  his  mind  to  beg. 

He  retraced  his  steps  to  the  head  of  Frankfort 
Street,  and  walked  slowly  down  Nassau  Street.  The 
rain  was  falling,  as  I  have  said,  and  those  Tvho  could 
remained  under  shelter.  Besides,  business  hours 
were  over.  The  thousands  who  during  the  day 
made  the  lower  part  of  the  city  a  busy  hive  had  gone 
to  their  homes  in  the  upper  portion  of  the  island,  or 
across  the  river  to  Brooklyn  or  the  towns  on  the 
Jersey  shore.  So,  however  willing  he  might  be  to 
beg,  there  did  not  seem  to  be  much  chance  at  pres- 
ent. 

The  rain  increased,  and  Mark  in  his  thin  clothes 
was  soon  drenched  to  the  skin.  He  felt  damp,  cold, 
and  uncomfortable.  But  there  was  no  rest  for  him. 
The  only  home  he  had  was  shut  to  him,  unless  he 
should  bring  home  twenty  five-cents,  and  of  this  there 
seemed  very  little  prospect. 

At  the  corner  of  Fulton  Street  he  fell  in  with  a 


62  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY , 

ooy  of  twelve,  short  and  sturdy  in  frame,  dressed  ir 
a  coat  whose  tails  nearly  reached  the  sidewalk 
Though  scarcely  in  the  fashion,  it  was  warmer  thai 
Mark's,  and  the  proprietor  troubled  himself  very  little 
about  the  looks. 

This  boy,  whom  Mark  recognized  as  Ben  Gibson, 
had  a  clay  pipe  in  his  mouth,  which  he  seemed  to  be 
smoking  with  evident  enjoyment. 

"  Where  you  goin'  ?"  he  asked,  halting  in  front 
of  Mark. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mark. 

"  Don't  know !  "  repeated  Ben,  taking  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth,  and  spitting.  "Where's  your 
matches?" 

"  I  left  them  at  home." 

"  Then  what'd  did  you  come  out  for  in  this 
storm?  " 

"  The  woman  I  live  with  won't  let  me  come  home 
till  I've  brought  her  twenty-five  cents." 

"  How'd  you  expect  to  get  it?  " 

"  She  wants  me  to  beg." 

"That's  a  good  way,"  said  Ben,  approvingly; 
"  when  you  get  hold  of  a  soft  chap,  or  a  lady 
Them  s  the  ones  to  shell  out." 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER' 8    WARD.  63 

-'I  don't  like  it,"  said  Mark.     "I  don't  want 

people  to  think  me  a  beggar." 

"What's  the  odds?"  said  Ben,  philosophic-all y. 
"  You're  just  the  chap  to  make  a  good  beggar." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Ben  ?  "  said  Mark, 
who  was  far  from  considering  this  much  of  a  compli- 
ment. 

"  Why  you're  a  thin,  pale  little  chap,  that  people 
will  pity  easy.  Now  I  aint  the  right  cut  for  a  beg- 
gar.    I  tried  it  once,  but  it  was  no  go." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mark,  who  began  to  be  in- 
terested in  spite  of  himself. 

"  You  see,"  said  Ben,  again  puffing  out  a  volume 
of  smoke,  "  I  look  too  tough,  as  if  I  could  take  care 
of  myself.  People  don't  pity  me.  I  tried  it  one 
night  when  I  was  hard  up.  I  hadn't  got  but  six 
cents,  and  I  wanted  to  go  to  the  Old  Bowery  bad. 
feo  I  went  up  to  a  gent  as  was  comin'  up  Wall  Street 
from  the  Ferry,  and  said,  '  Won't  you  give  a  poor 
boy  a  few  pennies  to  save  him  from  starvin'  ?  ' 

"  '  So  you're  almost  starvin',  are  you,  my  lad  ?  ' 
lays  he. 

"  '  Yes,  sir,'  says  I,  as  faint  as  I  could. 

*'  'Well,  starvin'  seems  to  agree  with  you,'  saya 


6l  HARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY / 

he,  laugbin'.  f  You're  the  healthiest-lookin'  beggar 
T've  seea  in  a  good  while.' 

"  I  tried  it  again  on  another  gent,  and  he  told  me 
hs  guessed  I  was  lazy:  that  a  good  stout  boy  like  me 
ought  to  work.  So  I  didn't  make  much  beggin',  and 
had  to  give  up  goin'  to  the  Old  Bowery  that  night, 
which  I  was  precious  sorry  for,  for  there  was  a  great 
benefit  that  evenin'.     Been  there  often  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  went." 

"Never  went  to  the  Old  Bowery!"  ejaculated 
Ben,  whistling  in  his  amazement.  "  Where  were 
you  raised,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  I  should  think  you 
was  a  country  greeny,  I  should." 

"  I  never  had  a  chance,"  said  Mark,  who  began 
to  feel  a  little  ashamed  of  the  confession. 

"  Won't  your  old  woman  let  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  never  have  any  money  to  go." 

"If  I  was  flush  I'd  take  you  myself.  It's  only 
fifteen  cents,"  said  Ben.  "  But  I  haven't  got  money 
enough  only  for  one  ticket.     I'm  goin'  to-night." 

"  Are  you?  "  asked  Mark,  a  little  enviously. 

"Yes,  it's  a  good  way  to  pass  a  rainy  evenin'. 
You've  got  a  warm  room  to  be  in,  let  alone  the  play, 
which  is  splendid.     Now,  if  you  could  only  beg  fif- 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  65 

te^n  cents  from  some  charitable  cove,  you  might  go 
along  of  me." 

"If  I  get  any  money  I've  got  to  carry  it  home." 

"  Suppose  you  don't,  will  the  old  woman  cut  up 
rough  ?  ' ' 

"  She'll  beat  me  with  a  strap,"  said  Mark,  shud- 
dering. 

'  What  makes  you  let  her  do  it?  "  demanded  Ben, 
rather  disdainfully. 

"  I  can't  help  it." 

"  She  wouldn't  beat  me,"  said  Ben,  decidedly. 

"  What  would  you  do?"  asked  Mark,  with  in- 
terest. 

"  What  would  I  do  ?  "  retorted  Ben.  "  Id  kick, 
and  bite,  and  give  her  one  for  herself  between  the 
eyes.  That's  what  I'd  do.  She'd  find  me  a  hard 
case,  I  reckon." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  any  use  for  me  to  try  that,"  said 
Mark.     "  She's  too  strong." 

"  It  don't  take  much  to  handle  you,"  said  Ben, 
taking  a  critical  survey  of  the  physical  points  of 
Mark.     "  You're  most  light  enough  to  blow  away.'' 

"I'm  only  ten  years  old,"  said  Mark,  apologeti- 
cally.    "  I  shall  be  bigger  some  time." 
5 


66  mark,  the  match  boy; 

"  Maybe/'  said  Ben.  dubiously;  "  but  you  don't 
look  as  if  you'd  ever  be  tough  like  me." 

"There,"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  "I've  smoked 
all  my  'baccy.     I  wish  I'd  got  some  more." 

"  Do  you  like  to  smoke?  "  asked  Mark. 

"  It  warms  a  feller  up,"  said  Ben.  "  It's  jest  the 
thing  for  a  cold,  wet  day  like  this.  Didn't  you  ever 
try  it  ?  " 

"No." 

"  If  I'd  got  some  'baccy  here,  I'd  give  you  a 
whiff;  but  I  think  it  would  make  you  sick  the  first 
timo." 

"I  don't  think  I  should  like  it,"  said  Mark,  who 
had  never  felt  any  desire  to  smoke,  though  he  knew 
plenty  of  boys  who  indulged  in  the  habit. 

"  That's  because  you  don't  know  nothin'  about 
it,"  remarked  Ben.  "  I  didn't  like  it  at  first  till  I 
got  learned." 

"  Do  you  smoke  often  ?  " 

"  Every  day  after  I  get  through  blackin'  boots; 
that  is,  when  I  ain't  hard  up,  and  can't  raise  the 
stamps  to  pay  for  the  'Daccy.  But  I  guess  I'll  be 
goin'  up  to  the  Old  Bowery.  It's  most  time  for  the 
doors  to  open.     Where  you  goin'  ?  " 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  67 

"  I  don't  know  where  to  go,"  said  Mark,  help- 
lessly. 

"  I'll  tell  you  where  you'd  better  go.  You  won' 
find  nobody  round  here.  Besides  it  aint  comfortable 
lettin'  the  rain  fall  on  you  and  wet  you  through." 
(While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  the  boys  had 
sheltered  themselves  in  a  doorway.)  "  Just  you  go 
down  to  Fulton  Market.  There  you'll  be  out  of  the 
wet,  and  you'll  see  plenty  of  people  passin'  through 
when  the  boats  come  in.  Maybe  some  of  'em  will 
give  you  somethin'.  Then  ag'in,  there's  the  boats. 
Some  nights  I  sleep  aboard  the  boats." 

1 '  You  do  ?     Will  they  let  you  ?  " 

"  They  don't  notice.  I  just  pay  my  two  cents, 
and  go  aboard,  and  snuggle  up  in  a  corner  and  go  to 
sleep.  So  I  ride  to  Brooklyn  and  back  all  night. 
That's  cheaper'n  the  Newsboys'  Lodgin'  House,  for 
it  only  costs  two  cents.  One  night  a  gentleman 
came  to  me,  and  woke  me  up,  and  said,  '  We'vs  got 
to  Brooklyn,  my  lad.  If  you  don't  get  up  they'll 
carry  you  back  again.' 

"  I  jumped  up  and  told  him  I  was  much  obliged, 
as  I  didn't  know  what  my  family  would  say  if  I 
didn't  get  home  by  eleven  o'clock.     Then,  just  a# 


68  MARK,    THE   MATCn   BOT; 

soon  as  his  back  was  turned,  I  sat  down  again  and 
went  to  sleep.  It  aint  so  bad  sleepin'  aboard  the 
boat,  'specially  in  a  cold  night.  They  keep  tho 
cabin  warm,  and  though  the  seat  isn't  partic' laxly 
soft  its  better'n  bein'  out  in  the  street.  If  you  don't 
get  your  twenty-five  cents,  and  are  afraid  of  a  lickin', 
you'd  better  sleep  aboard  the  boat." 

"Perhaps  I  will,"  said  Mark,  to  whom  the  idea 
was  not  unwelcome,  for  it  would  at  all  events  save 
him  for  that  night  from  the  beating  which  would  be 
his  portion  if  he  came  home  without  the  required 
sum. 

"Well,  good-night,"  said  Ben;  "I'll  be  goin' 
along." 

"  Good-night,  Ben,"  said  Mark,  "  I  guess  I'll  go 
to  Fulton  Market." 

Accordingly  Mark  turned  down  Fulton  Street, 
while  Ben  steered  in  the  direction  of  Chatham  Street, 
through  which  it  was  necessary  to  pass  in  order  to 
reach  the  theatre,  which  is  situated  on  the  Bowery, 
not  far  from  its  junction  with  Chatham  Street. 

Ben  Gibson  is  a  type  of  a  numerous  class  of  im- 
provident boys,  who  live  on  from  day  to  day,  careless 
of  appearances,  spending  their  evenings  where  they 


OH,    HICHAHD    HUNTER'S    WARD,  69 

can,  at  the  theatre  when  their  means  admit,  and 
sometimes  at  gambling  saloons.  Not  naturally  bad, 
they  drift  into  bad  habits  from  the  force  of  outward 
circumstances.  They  early  learn  to  smoke  or  chew, 
finding  in  tobacco  some  comfort  during  the  cold  and 
wet  days,  either  ignorant  of  or  indifferent  to  the 
harm  which  the  insidious  weed  will  do  to  their  con- 
stitutions. So  their  growth  is  checked,  or  their 
blood  is  impoverished,  as  is  shown  by  their  pale 
faces. 

As  for  Ben,  he  was  gifted  with  a  sturdy  frame  and 
an  excellent  constitution,  and  appeared  as  yet  to  ex- 
hibit none  of  the  baneful  effects  of  this  habit.  But 
no  growing  boy  can  smoke  without  ultimately  being 
affected  by  it,  and  such  will  no  doubt  be  the  cast 
with  Ben. 


70  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY  J 


CHAPTER    VII. 


FULTON  MARKET. 


Just  across  from  Fulton  Ferry  stands  Fulton 
Market.  It  is  nearly  fifty  years  old,  having  been 
built  in  1821,  on  ground  formerly  occupied  by  un- 
sightly wooden  buildings,  which  were,  perhaps  for- 
tunately, swept  away  by  fire.  It  covers  the  block 
bounded  by  Fulton,  South,  Beekman,  and  Front 
Streets,  and  was  erected  at  a  cost  of  about  quarter  of 
a  million  of  dollars. 

This  is  the  chief  of  the  great  city  markets,  and  an 
immense  business  is  done  here.  There  is  hardly  an 
hour  in  the  twenty-four  in  which  there  is  an  entire 
lull  in  the  business  of  the  place.  Some  of  the  out- 
side shops  and  booths  are  kept  open  all  night,  while 
the  supplies  of  fish,  meats,  and  vegetables  for  the 
market  proper  are  brought  at  a  very  early  hour, 
almost  before  it  can  be  called  morning. 

Besides  the  market  proper  the  surrounding  side- 


OH,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  71 

walks  are  roofed  over,  and  lined  with  shops  and  booths 
of  the  most  diverse  character,  at  which  almost  every 
conceivable  article  can  be  purchased.  Most  numer- 
ous, perhaps,  are  the  chief  restaurants,  the  counters 
loaded  with  cakes  and  pies,  with  a  steaming  vessel  of 
coffee  smoking  at  one  end.  The  floors  are  sanded, 
and  the  accommodations  are  far  from  elegant  or  luxu- 
rious ;  but  it  is  said  that  the  viands  are  by  no  means 
to  be  despised.  Then  there  are  fruit-stalls  with  tempt- 
ing  heaps  of  oranges,  apples,  and  in  their  season  the 
fruits  of  summer,  presided  over  for  the  most  part  by 
Hid  women,  who  scan  shrewdly  the  faces  of  passers-by, 
£nd  are  ready  on  the  smallest  provocation  to  vaunt 
the  merits  of  their  wares.  There  are  candy  and  cocoa- 
nut  cakes  for  those  who  have  a  sweet  tooth,  and 
many  a  shop-boy  invests  in  these  on  his  way  to  or 
from  Brooklyn  to  the  New  York  store  wThere  he  is 
employed ;  or  the  father  of  a  family,  on  his  way  to  his 
Brooklyn  home,  thinks  of  the  little  ones  awaiting  him, 
and  indulges  in  a  purchase  of  what  he  knows  will  be 
sure  to  be  acceptable  to  them. 

But  it  is  not  only  the  wants  of  the  body  that  are 
provided  for  at  Fulton  Market.  On  the  Fulton 
Street  side  may  be  found  extensive  booths,  at  which 


72  ma n a,  the  AiA'icn  dot; 

are  displayed  for  sale  a  tempting  array  of  papers,  mag 
azines,  and  books,  as  well  as  stationery,  photograph 
albums,   etc.,  generally  at  prices  twenty  or  thirty 
per  cent,  lower  than  is  demanded  for  them  in  the 
more  pretentious  Broadway  or  Fulton  Avenue  stores. 

Even  at  night,  therefore,  the  outer  portion  of  the 
market  presents  a  bright  and  cheerful  shelter  from 
the  inclement  weather,  being  securely  roofed  over, 
and  well  lighted,  while  some  of  the  booths  are  kept 
open,  however  late  the  hour. 

Ben  Gibson,  therefore,  was  right  in  directing  Mark 
to  Fulton  Market,  as  probably  the  most  comfortable 
place  to  be  found  in  the  pouring  rain  which  made  the 
thoroughfares  dismal  and  dreary.  Mark,  of  course, 
had  been  in  Fulton  Market  often,  and  saw  at  once 
the  wisdom  of  the  advice.  He  ran  down  Fulton 
Street  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  arrived  there  panting 
and  wet  to  the  skin.  Uncomfortable  as  he  was,  the 
change  from  the  wet  streets  to  the  bright  and  com 
paratively  warm  shelter  of  the  market  made  him  at 
once  more  cheerful.  In  fact,  it  compared  favorably 
with  the  cold  and  uninviting  room  which  he  shared 
with  Mother  Watson. 

As  Mark  looked  around  him,  he  could  not  help 


OR,    RICHARD    nVNTER'S    WARD.  73 

wishing  that  he  tended  in  one  of  the  little  restaurants 
that  looked  so  bright  and  inviting  to  him.  Those 
who  are  accustomed  to  lunch  at  Delmonico's,  or  at 
some  of  the  large  and  stylish  hotels,  or  have  their 
meals  served  by  attentive  servants  in  brown  stone 
dwellings  in  the  more  fashionable  quarters  of  the  city, 
would  be  likely  to  turn  up  their  noses  at  his  humble 
taste,  and  would  feel  it  an  infliction  to  take  a  meal 
amid  such  plebeian  surroundings.  But  then  Mark 
knew  nothing  about  the  fare  at  Delmonico's,  and  was 
far  enough  from  living  in  a  brown  stone  front,  and 
so  his  ideas  of  happiness  and  luxury  were  not  very 
exalted,  or  he  would  scarcely  have  envied  a  stout 
butcher  boy  whom  he  saw  sitting  at  an  unpainted 
wooden  table,  partaking  of  a  repast  which  was  more 
abundant  than  choice. 

But  from  the  surrounding  comfort  Mark's  thoughts 
were  brought  back  to  the  disagreeable  business  which 
brought  him  here.  He  was  to  solicit  charity  from 
some  one  of  the  passers-by,  and  with  a  sigh  he  began 
to  look  about  him  to  select  some  compassionate  face. 

"  F  chere  was  only  somebody  here  that  wanted  an 
errand  done,"  he  thought,  "  and  would  pay  ma 
twenty-five  cents  for  doing  it,  I  wouldn't  have  to  beg 


74  MARK.    THE   MATCH   BOY; 

I'd  rather  work  two  hours  for  the  money  than  beg 
it." 

But  there  seemed  little  chance  of  this.  In  the 
busy  portion  of  the  day  there  might  have  been  some 
chance,  though  this  would  be  uncertain ;  but  now  it 
was  very  improbable.  If  he  wanted  to  get  twen- 
ty-five cents  that  night  he  must  get  it  from  char- 

A  beginning  must  be  made,  however  disagreeable. 
So  Mark  went  up  to  a  young  man  who  was  passing 
along  on  his  way  to  the  boat,  and  in  a  shamefaced 
manner  said,  "Will  you  give  me  a  few  pennies, 
please?  " 

The  young  man  looked  good-natured,  and  it  was 
that  which  gave  Mark  confidence  to  address  him. 

"  You  want  some  pennies,  do  you  ?  "  he  said,  with 
a  smile,  pausing  in  his  walk. 

"If  you  please,  sir." 

"  I  suppose  your  wife  and  family  are  starv- 
ing, eh?  " 

"  I  haven't  got  any  wife  or  family,  sir,"  said  Mark. 

"But  you've  got  a  sick  mother,  or  some  brothers 
or  sisters  that  are  starving,  haven't  you?" 

"No,  sir." 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTERS    WAuV.  75 

"  Then  I'm  afraid  you're  not  up  to  your  business 
How  long  have  you  been  round  begging?  " 

''  Never  before,"  said  Mark,  rather  indignantly. 

"  Ah,  that  accounts  for  it.  You  haven't  learned 
the  business  yet.  After  a  few  weeks  you'll  have  a 
sick  mother  starving  at  home.  They  all  do,  you 
know." 

"My  mother  is  dead,"  said  Mark  ;  "  I  shan't  tell 
a  lie  to  get  money." 

"  Come,  you're  rather  a  remarkable  boy,"  said 
the  young  man,  who  was  a  repoi  ter  on  a  daily  paper, 
going  over  to  attend  a  meeting  in  Brooklyn,  to  write 
an  account  of  it  to  appear  in  one  of  the  city  dailies  in 
the  morning.  "  I  don't  generally  give  money  in 
such  cases,  but  I  must  make  an  exception  in  your 
case." 

lie  drew  a  dime  from  his  vest-pocket  and  handed 
it  to  Mark. 

Mark  took  it  with  a  blush  of  mortification  at  the 
necessity. 

"  I  wouldn't  beg  if  I  could  help  it,"  he  said,  de- 
siring to  justify  himself  in  the  eyes  of  the  good- 
natured  young  man. 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  that.  Johnny."     (Johnny  is  a 


76  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

common  name  applied  to  boys  whose  names  are  un- 
known.) "  It  isn't  a  very  creditable  business.  What 
makes  you  beg,  then  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  beaten  if  I  don't,"  said  Mark. 

' '  That' s  bad.     Who  will  beat  y ou  ?  " 

"  Mother  Watson." 

"  Tell  Mother  Watson,  with  my  compliments,  that 
Bhe's  a  wicked  old  tyrant.  I'll  tell  you  what,  my  lad, 
you  must  grow  as  fast  as  you  can,  and  by  and  by 
you'll  get  too  large  for  that  motherly  old  woman  to 
whip.  But  there  goes  the  bell.  I  must  be  getting 
aboard." 

This  was  the  result  of  Mark's  first  begging  appeal. 
He  looked  at  the  money,  and  wished  he  had  got  it  in 
any  other  way.  If  it  had  been  the  reward  of  an 
hour's  work  he  would  have  gazed  at  it  with  much 
greater  satisfaction. 

Well,  he  had  made  a  beginning.  He  had  §  >t  ten 
cents.  But  there  still  remained  fifteen  cent?  to  ob- 
tain, and  without  that  he  did  not  feel  safe  in  going 
back. 

So  he  looked  about  him  for  another  pe^on  to 
address.  This  time  he  thought  he  would  a&k  a 
lady.     Accordingly   he  went   up   to   one,  mjo  yi-xa 


OR,    RICITAIW    HUNTER'S    WJRD.  77 

walking  with  her  son,  a  boy  of  sixteen,  to  judge 
from  appearance,  and  asked  for  a  few  pennies. 

"  Get  out  of  my  way,  you  little  beggar  !  "  she 
Baid,  in  a  disagreeable  tone.  "  Aint  you  ashamed 
of  yourself,  going  round  begging,  instead  of  earning 
money  like  honest  people?  " 

"I've  been  trying  to  earn  money  all  day,"  said 
Mark,  rather  indignant  at  this  attack. 

"  Oh  no  doubt,"  sneered  the  woman.  "I  don't 
think  you'll  hurt  yourself  with  work." 

"I  was  round  the  streets  all  day  trying  to  sell 
matches,"  said  Mark. 

"  You  mustn't  believe  what  he  says,  mother,"  said 
the  boy.  "  They're  all  a  set  of  humbugs,  and  will 
lie  as  fast  as  they  can  talk." 

"I've  no  doubt  of  it,  Roswell,"  said  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford. "  Such  little  impostors  never  get  anything 
out  of  me.     I've  got  other  uses  for  my  money." 

Mark  was  a  gentle,  peaceful  boy,  but  such  attacks 
naturally  made  him  indignant. 

"  I  am  not  an  impostor,  and  I  neither  lie  nor 
steal,"  he  said,  looking  alternately  from  the  mother 
tc  the  son. 

"  Oh,  you're  a  fine  young  man.  I've  no  doubt,'5 


78  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

said  Roswell,  with  a  sneer.  "  Bat  we'd  bettei  he 
getting  on,  mother,  unless  you  mean  to  stop  in  I  al- 
ton  Market  all  night." 

So  mother  and  son  passed  on,  leaving  Mark  with 
a  sense  of  mortification  and  injury.  He  would  have 
given  the  ten  cents  he  had,  not  to  have  asked  charity 
of  this  woman  who  had  answered  him  so  un- 
pleasantly. 

Those  of  my  readers  who  have  read  the  two  preced- 
ing volumes  of  this  series  will  recognize  in  Roswell 
Crawford  and  his  mother  old  acquaintances  who  played 
an  important  part  in  the  former  stories.  As,  how- 
ever, I  may  have  some  new  readers,  it  may  be  as 
well  to  explain  that  Roswell  was  a  self-conceited 
boy,  who  prided  himself  on  being  "the  son  of  a 
gentleman,"  and  whose  great  desire  was  to  find  a 
place  where  the  pay  would  be  large  and  the  duties 
very  small.  Unfortunately  for  his  pride,  his  father 
had  failed  in  business  shortly  before  he  died,  and  his 
mother  had  been  compelled  to  keep  a  boarding-house. 
She,  too,  was  troubled  with  a  pride  very  similar  to 
that  of  her  son,  and  chafed  inwardly  at  her  position, 
instead  of  reconciling  herself  to  it,  as  many  bettei 
persons  have  done 


OR,   RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  7? 

Roswell  was  not  very  fortunate  in  retaining  the 
positions  he  obtained,  being  generally  averse  to  doing 
anything  except  what  he  was  absolutely  obliged  to 
do.  He  had  lost  a  situation  in  a  dry-goods  store  ia 
Sixth  Avenue,  because  he  objected  to  carrying  bun- 
dles, considering  it  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  gentle- 
man's son.  Some  months  before  he  had  tried  to  get 
Richard  Hunter  discharged  from  his  situation  in  the 
hope  of  succeeding  him  in  it;  but  this  plot  proved 
utterly  unsuccessful,  as  is  fully  described  in  "Fame 
and  Fortune." 

We  shall  have  more  to  do  with  Roswe'l  Crawford 
in  the  course  of  the  present  story.  At  present  he 
was  employed  in  a  retail  bookstore  ur  town,  on  a 
salary  of  six  dollars  a  week. 


80  MALK,    THE    MATCH  BOT: 


CHAPTER  VIII 


ON  THE   FERRY-BOAT. 


Mark  had  made  two  applications  for  charity, 
and  still  had  but  ten  cents.  The  manner  in  which 
Mrs.  Crawford  met  his  appeal  made  the  business 
seem  more  disagreeable  than  ever.  Besides,  he  was 
getting  tired.  It  was  not  more  than  eight  o'clock, 
but  he  had  been  up  early,  and  had  been  on  his  feet 
all  day.  He  leaned  against  one  of  the  stalls,  but 
in  so  doing  he  aroused  the  suspicions  of  the  vigi- 
lant old  woman  who  presided  over  it. 

"Just  stand  away  there,"  she  said.  "You're 
watchin'  for  a  chance  to  steal  one  of  them  ap- 
ples." 

"No,  I'm  not,"  said  Mark,  indignantly.  "I 
never  steal." 

"  Don't  tell  me,"  said  the  old  woman,  who  had  a 
hearty  aversion  to  boys,  some  of  whom,  it  must  be 
confessed,  had  in  times  past  played  mean  tricks  od 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  81 

Der;  "don't  tell  me!  Them  that  beg  \* ill  steal, 
and  I  see  you  beggin'  just  now." 

To  this  Mark  had  no  reply  to  make.  He  saw  that 
he  was  already  classed  with  the  young  street  beg- 
gars, many  of  whom,  as  the  old  woman  implied, 
had  no  particular  objection  to  stealing,  if  they  got  a 
chance.  Altogether  he  was  so  disgusted  with  his 
new  business,  that  he  felt  it  impossible  for  him  to 
beg  any  more  that  night.  But  then  came  up  the 
consideration  that  this  would  prevent  his  returning 
home.  He  very  well  knew  what  kind  of  a  reception 
Mother  Watson  would  give  him,  and  he  had  a  very 
unpleasant  recollection  and  terror  of  the  leather 
strap. 

But  where  should  he  go?  He  must  pass  the 
night  somewhere,  and  he  already  felt  drowsy.  Why 
should  he  not  follow  Ben  Gibson's  suggestions,  and 
sleep  on  the  Fulton  ferry-boat  ?  It  would  only 
cost  two  cents  to  get  on  board,  and  he  might  ride  all 
night.  Fortunately  he  had  more  than  money  enough 
for  that,  though  he  did  net  like  to  think  how  he  came 
by  the  ten  cents. 

When  Mark  had  made  up  his  mind,  he  passed 
out  of  one  of  the  entrances  of  the  market,  and,  cross- 
6 


82  MARK)    THE   MATCH  BOY ; 

ing  the  street,  presented  his  ten  cents  at  the  wicket, 
where  stood  the  fare-taker. 

Without  a  look  towards  him,  that  functionary  took 
the  money,  and  pushed  back  eight  cents.  These 
Mark  took,  and  passed  round  into  the  large  room  of 
the  ferry-house. 

The  boat  was  not  in,  but  he  already  saw  it  half- 
way across  the  river,  speeding  towards  its  pier. 

There  were  a  few  persons  waiting  besides  himself, 
but  the  great  rush  of  travel  was  diminished  for  a 
short  time.  It  would  set  in  again  about  eleven 
o'clock  when  those  who  had  passed  the  evening  at 
some  place  of  amusement  in  New  York  would  be  on 
their  way  home. 

Mark  with  the  rest  waited  till  the  boat  reached  its 
wharf.  There  was  the  usual  bump,  then  the  chain 
rattled,  the  wheel  went  round,  and  the  passengers 
began  to  pour  out  upon  the  wharf.  Mark  passed 
into  the  boat,  and  went  at  once  to  the  "  gentlemen's 
cabin,"  situated  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  boat. 
Generally,  however,  gentlemen  rather  unfairly  crowd 
into  the  ladies'  cabin,  sometimes  compelling  the 
ladies,  to  whom  it  of  right  belongs,  to  stand,  while 
they  complacently  monopolize  the  seats.     The  gen 


OE,   RICHARD    HUATER'S    WARD.  83 

tJemen's  cabin,  so  called,  is  occupied  by  those  who 
have  a  little  more  regard  to  the  rights  of  ladies,  and 
by  the  smokers,  who  are  at  liberty  to  indulge  in 
their  favorite  comfort  here. 

When  Mark  entered,  the  air  was  redolent  with 
tobacco-smoke,  generally  emitted  from  clay  pipes  and 
cheap  cigars,  and  therefore  not  so  agreeable  as  under 
other  circumstances  it  might  have  been.  But  it  was 
warm  and  comfortable,  and  that  was  a  good  deal. 

In  the  corner  Mark  espied  a  wide  seat  nearly 
double  the  size  of  an  ordinary  seat,  and  this  he  de- 
cided would  make  the  most  comfortable  niche  for 
him. 

He  settled  himself  down  there  as  well  as  he  could. 
The  seat  was  hard,  and  not  so  comfortable  as  it 
might  have  been ;  but  then  Mark  was  not  accustomed 
to  beds  of  down,  and  he  was  so  weary  that  his  eyes 
closed  and  he  was  soon  in  the  land  of  dreams. 

He  was  dimly  conscious  of  the  arrival  at  the 
Brooklyn  side,  and  the  ensuing  hurried  exit  of  pas- 
sengers from  that  part  of  the  cabin  in  which  he  was , 
but  it  was  only  a  slight  interruption,  and  when  the 
boat,  having  set  out  on  its  homeward  trip,  reached 
the  New  York  side,  he  was  fast  asleep. 


84  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY; 

"  Poor  little  fellow  !  "  thought  more  than  one, 
with  a  hast j  glance  at  the  sleeping  boy.  "He  is 
taking  his  comfort  where  he  can." 

But  there  was  no  good  Samaritan  to  take  him  by 
the  hand,  and  inquire  into  his  hardships,  and  provide 
for  his  necessities,  or  rather  there  was  one,  and  that 
one  well  known  to  us. 

Richard  Hunter  and  his  friend  Henry  Fosdick  had 
been  to  Brooklyn  that  evening  to  attend  an  instruct- 
ive lecture  which  they  had  seen  announced  in  one  of 
the  daily  papers.  The  lecture  concluded  at  half- 
past  nine,  and  they  took  the  ten  o'clock  boat  over 
the  Fulton  ferry. 

They  seated  themselves  in  the  first  cabin,  towards 
the  Brooklyn  side,  and  did  not,  therefore,  see  Mark 
until  they  passed  through  the  other  cabin  on  the 
arrival  of  the  boat  at  New  York. 

"Look  there,  Fosdick,"  said  Richard  Hunter. 
"  See  that  poor  little  chap  asleep  in  the  corner. 
Doesn't  it  remind  you  of  the  times  we  used  to  have, 
when  we  were  as  badly  off  as  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Dick,  but  I  don't  think  I  ever  slept  on  a 
ferry-boat." 

"  That's  because  you  were  not  on  the  streets  long 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  85 

I  took  care  of  myself  eight  years,  and  more  than 
once  took  a  cheap  bed  for  two  cents  on  a  boat  like 
this.  Most  likely  I've  slept  in  that  very  cor- 
ner. " 

"  It  was  a  hard  life,  Dick." 

"Yes,  and  a  hard  bed  too;  but  there's  a  good 
many  that  are  no  better  off  now.  I  always  feel  like 
doing  something  to  help  along  those  like  this  little 
chap  here." 

"  I  wonder  what  he  is,  —  a  boot-black  ?  " 

"He  hasn't  got  any  brush  or  box  with  him. 
Perhaps  he's  a  newsboy.  I  think  I'll  give  him  a 
surprise." 

'•'  Wake  him  up,  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  No,  poor  little  chap  !  Let  him  sleep.  I'll  put 
fifty  cents  in  his  pocket,  and  when  he  wakes  up  he 
won't  know  where  it  came  from." 

"  That's  a  good  idea,  Dick.  I'll  do  the  same. 
All  right." 

"Here's  the  money.  Put  mine  in  with  yours. 
Don't  wake  him  up." 

Dick  walked  softly  up  to  the  match-boy,  and 
gently  inserted  the  money  —  one  dollar  —  in  one  of 
the  pockets  of  his  ragged  vest 


86  MARK,    THE    MATCH    BOY / 

Mark  was  so  fast  asleep  that  he  waa  entirety 
unconscious  of  the  benevolent  act. 

"  That'll  make  him  open  his  eyes  in  the  morn- 
ing," he  said. 

"  Unless  somebody  relieves  him  of  the  money 
during  his  sleep." 

"  Not  much  chance  of  that.  Pickpockets  won't 
be  very  apt  to  meddle  with  such  a  ragged  little  chap 
as  that,  unless  it's  in  a  fit  of  temporary  aberration  of 
mind." 

"You're  right,  Dick.  But  we  must  hurry  out 
now,  or  we  shall  be  carried  back  to  Brooklyn." 

"  And  so  get  more  than  our  money's  worth.  I 
wouldn't  want  to  cheat  the  corporation  so  exten- 
sively as  that." 

So  the  two  friends  passed  out  of  the  boat,  and  left 
the  match  boy  asleep  in  the  cabin,  quite  unconscious 
that  good  fortune  had  hovered  over  him,  and  made 
him  richer  by  a  dollar,  while  he  slept. 

While  we  are  waiting  for  him  to  awake,  we  may 
as  well  follow  Richard  Hunter  and  his  friend  home. 

Fosdick's  good  fortune,  which  we  recorded  in  the 
earlier  chapters  of  this  volume  had  made  no  particu- 
lar   change    in    their    arrangements.      They    were 


O/?,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  87 

already  living  in  better  style  than  was  usual  among 
youths  situated  as  they  were.  There  was  this  differ- 
ence, however,  that  whereas  formerly  Dick  paid  the 
greater  part  of  the  joint  expense  it  was  now  divided 
equally.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Fosdick's 
interest  on  the  twenty  bank  shares  purchased  in  his 
name  amounted  to  one  hundred  and  sixty  dollars 
annually,  and  this  just  about  enabled  him  to  pay  his 
own  way,  though  not  leaving  him  a  large  surplus  for 
clothing  and  incidental  expenses.  It  could  not  be 
long,  however,  before  his  pay  would  be  increased  at 
the  store,  probably  by  two  dollars  a  week.  Until 
that  time  he  could  economize  a  little ;  for  upon  one 
thing  he  had  made  up  his  mind,  —  not  to  trench  upon 
his  principal  except  in  case  of  sickness  or  absolute 
necessity. 

The  boys  had  not  forgotten  or  neglected  the  com- 
mission which  they  had  undertaken  for  Mr.  Hiram 
Bates.  They  had  visited,  on  the  evening  after  he 
left,  the  Newsboys'  Lodging  House,  then  located  at 
the  corner  of  Fulton  and  Nassau  Streets,  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  "Sun"  building,  an  i  had  consulted 
Mr.  O'Connor,  the  efficient  superintendent,  as  to  the 
boy  of  whom  they   were  in  search.     But  he  had  no 


68  MA  UK,    THE    MATCH    BOY  ; 

information  to  supply  them  with.  He  promised  to 
Inquire  among  the  boys  who  frequented  the  lodge, 
as  it  was  possible  that  there  might  be  some  among 
them  who  might  have  fallen  in  with  a  boy  named 
Talbot. 

Richard  Hunter  also  sought  out  some  of  his  old 
acquaintances,  who  were  still  engaged  in  blacking 
boots,  or  selling  newspapers,  and  offered  a  reward  of 
five  dollars  for  the  discovery  of  a  boy  of  ten,  named 
Talbot,  or  John  Talbot. 

As  the  result  of  this  offer  a  red-haired  boy  was 
brought  round  to  the  counting-room  one  day,  who 
stoutly  asserted  that  his  name  was  John  Talbot, 
and  his  guide  in  consequence  claimed  the  reward. 
Dick,  however,  had  considerable  doubt  as  to  the 
genuineness  of  this  claim,  and  called  the  errand-boy, 
known  to  the  readers  of  earlier  volumes,  as  Micky 
Maguire. 

"Micky,"  said  Richard,  "this  boy  says  he  is 
John  Talbot.     Do  you  know  him?  " 

"Know  him!"  repeated  Micky;  "I've  knowed 
him  ever  since  he  was  so  high.  He's  no  more  John 
Talbot  than  I  am.  His  name  is  Tim  Hogan,  and  I'D 
defy  him  to  say  it  isn't." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER.' S    WARV.  89 

Tim  looked  guilty,  and  his  companion  gave  up  the 
actempt  to  obtain  the  promised  reward.  He  had 
hired  Tim  by  the  promise  of  a  dollar  to  say  he  was 
John  Talbot,  hoping  by  the  means  to  clear  four 
dollars  for  himself. 

"  That  boy' 11  rise  to  a  seat  in  the  Common  Coun- 
cil if  he  lives  long  enough,''  said  Dick.  "He's  an 
unusually  promising  specimen." 


dO  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY  I 


CHAPTER   IX. 

A   PLEASANT   DISCOVERT. 

TlO  night  wore  away,  and  still  Mark,  the  match 
boy,  continued  to  sleep  soundly  in  the  corner  of  the 
cabin  whore  he  had  established  himself.  One  of 
the  boat  hands  passing  through  noticed  him,  and 
was  on  the  point  of  waking  him,  but,  observing  his 
weary  look  and  thin  attire,  refrained  from  an  im- 
pulse of  compassion.  He  had  a  boy  of  about  the 
flame  age,  and  the  thought  came  to  him  that  some 
time  his  boy  might  be  placed  in  the  same  situation, 
and  this  warmed  his  heart  towards  the  little  va- 
grant. 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  wake  him  up,"  he  reflect- 
ed, "  but  he  isn't  doing  any  harm  there,  and  he  may 
as  well  have  his  sleep  out." 

So  Mark  slept  on,  —  a  merciful  sleep,  in  which 
he   forgot  his  poverty  and  friendless  condition ;    a 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER' S    WARD.  91 

sleep  which  brought  new  strength  and  refreshment 
to  his  limbs. 

When  he  woke  up  it  was  six  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. But  it  was  quite  dark  still,  for  it  was  in 
December,  and,  so  far  as  appearances  went,  it  might 
have  been  midnight.  But  already  sleepy  men  and 
boys  were  on  their  way  to  the  great  city  to  their 
daily  work.  Some  were  employed  a  considerable 
distance  up  town,  and  must  be  at  their  posts  at 
seven.  Others  were  employed  in  the  markets  and 
must  be  stirring  at  an  early  hour.  There  were 
keepers  of  street-stands,  who  liked  to  be  ready  for 
the  first  wave  in  the  tiie  of  daily  travel  that  was  to 
sweep  without  interruption  through  the  city  streets 
until  late  at  night.  So,  altogether,  even  at  this 
early  hour  there  was  quite  a  number  of  passen- 
gers. 

Mark  rubbed  .his  eyes,  not  quite  sure  where  he 
was,  or  how  he  got  there.  He  half  expected  to  hear 
the  harsh  voice  of  Mother  Watson,  which  usually 
aroused  him  to  his  daily  toil.  But  there  was  no 
Mother  Watson  to  be  seen,  only  sleepy,  gaping 
men  and  boys,  clad  in  working  dresses. 

Mark  sat  up  and  looked  around  him. 


92  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY,' 

11  Well,  young  chap,  you've  bad  a  nap,  haven't 
you  ?  "  said  a  man  at  his  side,  who  appeared,  from  a 
strong  smell  of  paint  about  his  clothes,  to  be  a 
journeyman  painter. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mark.     "  Is  it  morning?  " 

"To  be  sure  it  is.  What  did  you  expect  it 
was?" 

"  Then  I've  been  sleeping  all  night,"  said  the 
match  boy,  in  surprise. 

"Where?" 

"  Here." 

"  In  that  corner  ?  "  asked  the  painter. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mark;  "  I  came  aboard  last  night, 
and  fell  asleep,  and  that's  the  last  I  remember." 

"  It  must  be  rather  hard  to  the  bones,"  said  the 
painter.  "I  think  that  I  should  prefer  a  regular 
bed." 

"I  do  feel  rather  sore,"  said  the  match  boy; 
"  but  I  slept  bully." 

"  A  little  chap  like  yju  can  curl  up  anywhere. 
I  don't  think  I  could  sleep  very  well  on  these  seata 
Haven't  you  got  any  home?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mark,  "  a  sort  of  a  home." 

"  Then  why  didn't  you  sleep  at  home?  " 


OR,    RICHARD   HDN1ER  S    WARD.  93 

"  1  knew  I  should  get  a  beating  if  I  went  home 
without  twenty-five  cents." 

'-  Well,  that's  hard  luck.  I  wonder  how  I  should 
feel,"  he  continued,  laughing,  "if  my  wife  gave  me 
a  beating  when  I  came  home  short  of  funds." 

But  here  the  usual  bump  indicated  the  arrival  of 
the  boat  at  the  slip,  and  all  the  passengers,  the 
painter  included,  rose,  and  hurried  to  the  edge  of 
the  boat. 

With  the  rest  went  Mark.  He  had  no  particular 
object  in  going  thus  early ;  but  his  sleep  was  over, 
and  there  was  no  inducement  to  remain  longer  in  tho 
boat. 

The  rain  was  over  also.  The  streets  were  still 
wet  from  the  effects  of  the  quantity  that  had  fallen, 
but  there  was  no  prospect  of  any  more.  Mark's 
wet  clothes  had  dried  in  the  warm,  dry  atmosphere  of 
the  cabin,  and  he  felt  considerably  better  than  on  the 
evening  previous. 

Now,  however,  he  could  not  help  wondering  what 
Mother  Watson  had  thought  of  his  absence. 

"  She'll  be  mad,  I  know,"  he  thought.  "  I  sup- 
pose she'll  whip  me  Avhen  I  get  back." 

This  "ertainly  was  not  a  pleasant  thought.     The 


94  if  ARK,    THE  MATCH  BOY; 

leather  strap  was  an  old  enemy  of  his,  which  he 
dreaded,  and  with  good  reason.  He  was  afraid  that 
he  would  get  a  more  severe  beating,  for  not  having 
returned  the  night  before,  at  the  hands  of  the  angry 
old  woman. 

"I  wish  I  didn't  live  with  Mother  Watson,"  he 
thought. 

Straight  upon  this  thought  came  another.  "  Why 
should  he  ?  " 

Mother  Watson  had  no  claim  upon  him.  Upon 
his  mother's  death  she  had  assumed  the  charge  of 
him,  but,  as  it  turned  out,  rather  for  her  own  advan- 
tage than  his.  She  had  taken  all  his  earnings,  and 
given  him  in  return  a  share  of  her  miserable  apart- 
ment, a  crust  of  bread  or  two,  daily  seasoned  with 
occasional  assaults  with  the  leather  strap.  It  had 
never  occurred  to  Mark  before,  but  now  for  the  first 
time  it  dawned  upon  him  that  he  had  the  worst  of 
the  bargain.  He  could  live  more  comfortably  by 
retaining  his  earnings,  and  spending  them  upon  him- 
self. 

Mark  was  rather  a  timid,  mild-mannered  boy,  01 
he  would  sooner  ha7e  rebelled  against  the  tyranny 
and  abuse  of  Motner  Watson.     But  he  had  had  lit 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER' S    WARD.  95 

tie  confidence  in  himself,  and  wanted  somebody  to 
lean  on.  In  selecting  the  old  woman,  who  had 
acted  thus  far  as  his  guardian,  he  had  leaned  upon 
a  broken  reed.  The  last  night's  experience  gave 
him  a  little  courage.  He  reflected  that  he  could 
sleep  in  the  Newsboys'  Lodging  House  for  five  cents, 
or  on  the  ferry-boat  again  for  two,  while  the  fare  at 
his  old  home  was  hardly  so  sumptuous  but  that  he 
could  obtain  the  same  without  very  large  expense. 

So  Mark  thought  seriously  of  breaking  his  yoke 
and  declaring  himself  free  and  independent.  A 
discovery  which  he  made  confirmed  him  in  his  half- 
formed  resolution. 

He  remembered  that  after  paying  his  toll  he  had 
eight  cents  left,  which  he  had  placed  in  his  vest- 
pocket.  He  thought  that  these  would  enable  him  to 
get  some  breakfast,  and  drew  them  out.  To  his 
astonishment  there  were  two  silver  half-dollars 
mingled  with  the  coppers.  Mark  opened  his  eyes 
wide  in  astonishment.  Where  could  they  have  come 
from  ?  Was  it  possible  that  the  tollman  had  given 
him  them  by  mistake  for  pennies  ?  That  could  not 
be,  for  two  reasons  :  First,  he  remembered  looking 
at  the  change  as  it  was  handed  him,  and  he  knew 


96  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

that  there  were  no  half-dollars  among  them.  Again, 
the  eight  pennies  were  all  there,  the  silver  coina 
iDaking  the  number  ten. 

It  was  certainly  very  strange  and  surprising,  and 
puzzled  Mark  not  a  little.  We,  who  know  all  about 
it,  find  the  explanation  very  easy,  but  to  the  little 
match  boy  it  was  an  unfathomable  mystery. 

The  surprise,  however,  was  of  an  agreeable  char- 
acter. With  so  much  money  in  his  possession,  Mark 
felt  like  a  man  with  a  handsome  balance  at  his 
banker's,  and  with  the  usual  elasticity  of  youth  he 
did  not  look  forward  to  the  time  when  this  supply 
would  be  exhausted. 

"  I  won't  go  back  to  Mother  Watson,"  he  de- 
termined. "  She's  beaten  me  times  enough.  I'll 
take  care  of  myself." 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  his 
mind,  he  had  walked  up  Fulton  Street,  and  reached 
the  corner  of  Nassau.  Here  he  met  his  friend  of 
the  night  before,  Ben  Gibson. 

Ben  looked  rather  sleepy.  He  had  been  at  the 
Old  Bowery  Theatre  the  night  before  until  twelve 
o'clock,  and,  having  no  money  left  to  invest  in  a 
night's  lodging,  he  had  crept  into  a  corner  cf  the 


OR.    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  97 

"  Times  "  printing  office,  and  slept,  but  had  not  quite 
slept  off  his  fatigue. 

"  Hallo,  young  'un  !  "  said  he.  "  Where  did  you 
come  from?  " 

"  From  Fulton  Ferry,"  said  Mark.  "  I  slept  on 
the  boat." 

"  Did  you  ?     How'd  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  Pretty  good,"  said  Mark.  "  It  was  rather 
hard." 

"  How'd  you  make  out  begging  ?  " 

"  Not  very  well.     I  got  ten  cents." 

"  So  you  didn't  dare  to  go  home  to  the  oIq 
woman?  " 

"I  shan't  go  home  there  any  more,"  said  the 
match  boy. 

"  Do  you  mean  it?  " 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"  Bully  for  you  !  I  like  your  pluck.  I  wouldn't 
go  back  and  get  a  licking,  if  I  were  you.  What'll 
Mother  Watson  say  ?  " 

"  She'll  be  mad,  I  expect,"  said  Mark. 

"  Keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  her.  I'll  tell  you 
what  you  can  do :  stay  near  me,  and  if  she  comes 
prowlin'  round  I'll  manage  her." 


AfAllK,    THE   MATCH  BOY, 


«  t\ 


Could  you?"  said  Mark,  quickly,  who,  from 
"certain  recollections,  had  considerable  fear  of  his 
stout  tyrant 

"You  may  just  bet  on  that.  What  you  goin'  to 
do?" 

"  I  think  I  shall  go  and  get  some  breakfast,"  said 
Mark. 

"So  would  I,  if  I  had  any  tin;  but  I'm  dead 
broke, —  spent  my  last  cent  goin'  to  the  Old  Bowery. 
I'll  have  to  wait  till  I've  had  one  or  two  shines 
before  I  can  eat  breakfast." 

"  Are  you  hungry  ?  " 

"I'll  bet  I  am." 

"Because,"  said  Mark,  hesitating,  "I'll  lend 
you  money  enough  for  breakfast,  and  you  can  pay 
me  when  you  earn  it." 

"  You  lend  me  money  !  "  exclaimed  Ben,  in 
astonishment.  "  Why,  you  haven't  got  but  eight 
cents." 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  said  Mark,  producing  the  two  half- 
did  lars. 

"  Where'd  you  get  them  ?  "  asked  the  boot-black. 
ic  unfeigned  surprise,  looking  at  Mark  as  if  he  had 
ail  at  once  developed  into  an  Astor  or   a    Stewart. 


OR,    R1CRA11D    HUNTER'S    HARD.  99 

"  You  haven't  been  begging  this  morning,  have 
you?" 

"  No,"  said  the  match  boy,  "  and  I  don't  mean  U> 
beg  again  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  Then  wbere'd  you  get  the  money  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Don't  know  !  You  haven't  been  stealin',  hare 
you?" 

Mark  disclaimed  the  imputation  indignantly. 

"  Then  you  found  a  pocket-book?  " 

"No,  I  didn't." 

"  Then  where  did  you  get  the  money?  " 

"  I  don't  know  any  more  than  you  do.  When  I 
went  to  sleep  on  the  boat  I  didn't  have  it,  but  this 
morning  when  I  felt  in  my  pocket  it  was  there." 

"  That's  mighty  queer,"  said  Ben,  whistling. 

"So  I  think." 

"  It's  good  money,  aint  it?  " 

H  Try  it  and  see." 

Ben  tossed  up  one  of  the  coins.  It  fell  with  5 
clear,  ringing  sound  on  the  sidewalk. 

"Yes,  that's  good,"  he  said.  "I  just  wish  some- 
body'd  treat  me  that  way.  Maybe  it's  the  vest 
If  'tis  I'd  like  to  buy  it." 


LOO  MAHK,    THE   MATCH   BOY; 

"I  don't  think  it's  that,"  said  Mark,  laughing 
"Anyway  you've  got  the  money.      I'll   borrow 

twenty  cents  of  you,  and  we'll  go  and  get  some  break* 

frit." 


OB.    BICBARD    nUNTKR'S    WARD.  101 


CHAPTER  X. 


ON    THE    WAR    PATH. 


Ben  led  the  way  to  a  cheap  restaurant,  where  for 
eighteen  cents  each  of  the  boys  got  a  breakfast,  which 
to  their  not  very  fastidious  tastes  proved  very  satis- 
factory. 

"  There,"  said  Ben,  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  &a 
they  rose  from  the  table,  "now  I  feel  like  work;  I'll 
pay  up  that  money  afore  night." 

"All  right,"  said  Mark. 

"  What  are  you  goin'  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mark,  irresolutely. 

"  You're  a  match  boy,  -  -  aint  you  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Whe*re's  your  matches  ?  " 

"  In  Mother  Watson's  room." 

"  You  might  go  and  get  'em  when  she's  out." 

"  No,"  said  Mark,  shaking  his  head,  "  I  won't  do 
that." 


102  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY J 

"Why  not?  You  aint  afraid  to  go  round  there. 
--  be  you?  " 

"It  isn't  that,  — but  the  matches  aie  hers,  not 
mine." 

"What's  the  odds?" 

"  I  won't  take  anything  of  hers." 

"  Well,  you  can  buy  some  of  your  own,  then. 
You've  got  money  enough." 

"  So  I  will,"  said  Mark.  "  It's  lucky  that  money 
carae  to  me  in  my  sleep." 

"  That's  a  lucky  boat.  I  guess  I'll  go  there  and 
sleep  to-night." 

Mark  did  as  he  proposed.  With  the  money  he 
had  he  was  able  to  purchase  a  good  supply  of  match- 
es, and  when  it  became  light  enough  he  began  to 
vend  them. 

Hitherto  he  had  not  been  very  fortunate  in  the 
disposal  of  his  wares,  being  timid  and  bashful ;  but 
then  he  was  working  for  Mother  Watson,  and  ex- 
pected to  derive  very  little  advantage  for  himself  from 
his  labors.  Now  he  was  working  for  hinself,  and 
this  seemed  to  put  new  spirit  and  courage  into  him. 
Then  again  he  felt  that  he  had  shaken  off  the  hateful 
thraldom  in  which  Mother  Watson  had  held  b  im,  and 


on,  RicnARD  hunter's  ward.  103 

this  gave  him  a  hopefulness  which  he  had  not  before 
possessed. 

The  consequence  was  that  at  noon  he  found  thai 
he  had  earned  forty  cents  in  addition  to  his  invest- 
ment. At  that  time,  too,  Ben  was  ready  to  pay  him 
his  loan,  so  that  Mark  found  himself  twenty-two 
cents  better  off  than  he  had  been  in  the  morning,  hav- 
ing a  capital  of  a  dollar  and  thirty  cents,  out  of 
which,  however,  he  must  purchase  his  dinner. 

While  he  is  getting  on  in  such  an  encouraging 
manner  we  must  go  back  to  Mother  Watson. 

When  Mark  did  not  return  the  night  before  she 
grumbled  considerably,  but  no  thought  of  his  inten- 
tional desertion  dawned  upon  her.  Indeed,  she 
counted  upon  his  timidity  and  lack  of  courage,  know- 
ing well  that  a  more  spirited  boy  would  have  broken 
her  chain  long  before.  She  only  thought,  therefore, 
that  he  had  not  got  the  twenty-five  cents,  and  did 
not  dare  to  come  back,  especially  as  she  had  forbid- 
den him  to  do  so. 

So,  determining  to  give  him  a  taste  of  the  leather 
3trap  in  the  morning,  she  went  to  bed,  first  taking  a 
fresh  potation  from  the  whiskey  bottle,  which  was  her 
constant  companion. 


104  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY / 

Late  in  the  morning  Mother  Watson  woke,  feeling 
as  usual,  at  that  hour  of  the  day,  cross  and  ancomfort- 
able,  and  with  a  strong  desire  to  make  some  one  else 
uncomfortable.  But  Mark,  whom  she  usually  made 
to  bear  the  burden  of  her  temper,  was  still  awaj. 
For  the  first  time  the  old  woman  began  to  feel  a  little 
apprehcnsiTe  that  he  had  deserted  her.  This  was  far 
from  suiting  her,  as  she  found  his  earnings  very  con- 
venient, and  found  it  besides  pleasant  to  have  home- 
body to  scold. 

She  hastily  dressed,  without  paying  much  attention 
to  her  toilet.  Indeed,  to  do  Mother  Watson  justice, 
her  mind  was  far  from  being  filled  with  the  vanity 
of  dress,  and  if  she  erred  on  that  subject  it  was  in 
the  opposite  extreme. 

When  her  simple  toilet  was  accomplished  she  went 
downstairs,  and  knocked  at  Mrs.  Flanagan's  door. 

"  Come  in  !  "  said  a  hearty  voice. 

Mrs.  Flanagan  was  hard  at  work  at  her  wash-tub, 
and  had  been  for  a  good  couple  of  hours.  She  raised 
her  good-natured  face  as  the  old  woman  entered. 

"  The  top  of  the  morning  to  you,  Mother  Wat- 
son," she  said.  "  I  hope  you're  in  fine  health  this 
morning,  mum." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER' S    WARD.  105 

"  Then  you'll  be  disappointed,"  said  Mrs.  Watson. 
"  I've  got  a  bad  feeling  at  my  stomach,  and  have  it 
most  every  morning." 

"  It's  the  whiskey,"  thought  Mrs.  Flanagan;  but 
she  thought  it  best  not  to  intimate  as  much,  as  it 
might  lead  to  hostilities. 

"  Better  take  a  cup  of  tea,"  said  she. 

"  I  haven't  got  any,"  said  the  old  woman.  "  I 
wouldn't  mind  a  sup  if  you've  got  som*  handy." 

"  Sit  down  then,"  said  Mrs.  Flanag?u,  hospitably. 
"I've  got  some  left  from  breakfast,  oMy  it's  cold, 
but  if  you'll  wait  a  bit,  I'll  warm  it  over  foi 
you." 

Nothing  loth,  Mother  Watson  sank  into  a  chair, 
and  began  to  give  a  full  account  of  her  ivlroents  to 
her  neighbor,  who  tried  hard  to  sympathize  ^  ith  her, 
though,  knowing  the  cause  of  the  ailments,  aL^  foun  \ 
this  rather  difficult. 

"  Have  you  seen  anything  of  my  boy  this  room 
ing?  "  she  asked  after  a  while. 

"  What,  Mark  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Flanagan.  "  DilV 
he  come  home  last  night  ?  " 

"No,"  said  the  old  woman,  "and  he  isn't  hom< 
yet.     When  he  does  come  I'll  give  him  a  dose  of  tha 


106  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY / 

Btrap.  He's  a  bad,  lazy,  shiftless  boy,  and  worries 
my  life  out." 

"You're  hard  on  the  poor  boy,  Mother  Watson. 
You  must  remember  he's  but  a  wisp  of  a  lad,  and 
hasn't  much  strength." 

"He's  strong  enough,"  muttered  Mother  "Watson. 
"It's  lazy  he  is.  Just  let  him  come  home,  that's 
all !  " 

"  You  told  him  not  to  come  home  unless  he  had 
twenty-five  cents  to  bring  with  him." 

"  So  I  did,  and  why  didn't  he  do  it?  " 

"  He  couldn't  get  the  money,  it's  likely,  and  he's 
afraid  of  bein'  bate." 

"  Well,  he  will  be  bate  then,  Mrs.  Flanagan,  you 
may  be  sure  of  that,"  said  the  old  woman,  diving 
her  hand  into  her  pocket  to  see  that  the  strap  was 
safe. 

"  Then  you're  a  bad,  cruel  woman,  to  bate  that 
poor  motherless  child,"  said  Mrs.  Flanagan,  with 
spirit. 

"  Say  that  again,  Mrs.  Flanagan,"  ejaculated 
Mother  Watson,  irefully.  "  My  hearin'  isn't  as 
good  as  it  was,  and  maybe  I  didn't  hear  you  right." 

"No  wonder  your  hearin'  isn't  good,"  said  Mrs 


OR,   RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  107 

Flanagan,  who  now  broke  bounds  completely.  "I 
shouldn't  think  you'd  have  any  sense  left  with  the 
whiskey  you  drink." 

"Perhaps  you  mean  to  insult  me,"  said  the  old 
woman,  glaring  at  her  hostess  with  one  of  the  frowns 
which  used  to  send  terror  to  the  heart  of  poor  Mark. 

"Take  it  as  you  please,  mum,"  said  Mrs.  Flana- 
gan, intrepidly.  "I'm  entirely  willin'.  I've  been 
wanting  to  spake  my  mind  a  long  while,  and  now  I've 
spoke  it." 

Mother  Watson  clutched  the  end  of  the  strap  in 
her  pocket,  and  eyed  her  hostess  with  a  half  wish  that 
it  would  do  to  treat  her  as  she  had  treated  Mark  so 
often ;  but  Mrs.  Flanagan  with  her  strong  arms  and 
sturdy  frame  looked  like  an  antagonist  not  very  easily 
overcome,  and  Mrs.  Watson  forbore,  though  unwil- 
lingly. 

Meanwhile  the  tea  was  beginning  to  emit  quite  a 
savory  odor,  and  the  wily  old  woman  thought  it  best 
to  change  her  tactics. 

Accordingly  she  burst  into  tears,  and,  rocking 
backward  and  forward,  declared  that  she  was  a  miser- 
able old  woman,  and  hadn't  a  friend  in  the  world, 
and  succeeded  in  getting  up  such  a  display  of  miserv 


108  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

that  the  soft  heart  of  Mrs.  Flanagan  was  touch.nl. 
and  she  apologized  for  the  unpleasant  personal  ob- 
servations she  had  made,  and  hoped  Mother  W#tson 
would  take  the  tea. 

To  this  Mother  Watson  finally  agreed,  and  intimat- 
ing that  she  was  faint,  Mrs.  Flanagan  made  some 
toast  for  her,  of  which  the  cunning  old  woman  par- 
took with  exceeding  relish,  notwithstanding  her  state 
of  unhappiness. 

"  Come  in  any  time,  Mother  Watson,"  said  Mrs. 
Flanagan,  "  when  you  want  a  sip  of  tea,  and  I'll  be 
glad  to  have  you  take  some  with  me." 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Flanagan;  maybe  I'll  look  in 
once  in  a  while.  A  sip  of  tea  goes  to  the  right  spot 
when  I  feel  bad  at  my  stomach." 

"  Must  you  be  goin',  Mother  Watson  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  woman ;  "  I'm  goin'  out  on  a 
little  walk,  to  see  my  sister  that  keeps  a  candy-stand 
by  the  Pa^k  railins.  If  Mark  comes  in,  will  you 
tell  him  he'll  find  the  matches  upstairs  ?  " 

This  Mrs.  Flanagan  promised  to  do,  and  the  old 
woman  went  downstairs,  and  into  the  street. 

But  she  had  not  stated  her  object  quite  correctly . 
It  was  true  that  she  had  a  sister,  who  was  in  the  con- 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  109 

fectionery  and  apple  line,  presiding  over  one  of  the 
stalls  beside  the  Park  railings.  But  the  two  sisters 
were  not  on  very  good  terms,  chiefly  because  the 
candy  merchant,  who  was  more  industrious  and  cor- 
rect in  her  habits  than  her  sister,  declined  to  lend 
money  to  Mother  Watson,  —  a  refusal  which  led  to  a 
perfect  coolness  between  them.  It  was  not  therefore 
to  see  her  that  the  old  woman  went  out.  She  wanted 
x>  find  Mark.  She  did  not  meap  to  lose  her  hold 
apon  hira,  if  there  was  any  chance  of  retaining  it, 
and  she  therefore  made  up  her  mind  to  visit  the 
places  where  he  was  commonly  to  be  found,  and,  when 
found,  to  bring  him  home,  by  violence,  if  necessary. 
So  with  an  old  plaid  cloak  depending  from  her 
broad  shoulders,  and  her  hand  grasping  the  strap  in 
her  pocket,  she  made  her  way  to  the  square,  peering 
about  on  all  sides  with  her  ferret-like  eyes  in  the 
bop<»  of  discovering  the  missing  boy. 


Ill)  MARK,    THE    MATCH  £OTJ 


CHAPTER   XI. 

mark's  victory. 

Meanwhile  Mark,  rejoicing  in  his  new-found  free* 
dom,  had  started  on  a  business  walk  among  the  storea 
and  offices  at  the  lower  part  of  Nassau  Street,  and 
among  the  law  and  banking  offices  of  Wall  Street. 
Fortunately  for  Mark  there  had  been  a  rise  in  stocks, 
and  Wall  Street  was  in  a  good-humor.  So  a  few  of 
the  crumbs  from  the  tables  of  the  prosperous  bankers 
and  brokers  fell  in  his  way.  One  man,  who  had  just 
realized  ten  thousand  dollars  on  a  rise  in  some  rail- 
way securities,  handed  Mark  fifty  cents,  but  declined 
to  take  any  of  his  wares.  So  this  was  all  clear 
profit  and  quite  a  windfall  for  the  little  match  boy 
Again,  in  one  or  two  cases  he  received  double  price 
for  some  of  his  matches,  and  the  result  was  that  he 
found  himself  by  eleven  o'clock  the  possessor  of  two 
dollars  and  a  quarter,  with  a  few  boxes  of  matches 
still  left. 


OR,    RICH  AH  V    HUNTER'S    WARD.  Ill 

Mark  could  hardly  realize  his  own  good  fortune. 
Somehow  it  seemed  a  great  deal  more  profitable  aa 
well  as  more  agreeable  to  be  in  business  for  himself, 
than  to  be  acting  as  the  agent  of  Mother  Watson. 
Mark  determined  that  he  would  never  go  back  to  hei 
unless  he  was  actually  obliged  to  do  so. 

He  wanted  somebody  to  sympathize  with  him  in 
his  good  fortune,  and,  as  he  had  nearly  sold  out,  he 
determined  to  hunt  up  Ben  Gibson,  and  inform  him 
of  his  run  of  luck. 

Ben,  as  he  knew,  was  generally  to  be  found  on 
Nassau  Street,  somewhere  near  the  corner  of  Spruce 
Street.  He  therefore  turned  up  Nassau  Street  from 
Wall,  and  in  five  minutes  he  reached  the  business 
stand  of  his  friend  Ben. 

Ben  had  just  finished  up  a  job  as  Mark  came  up. 
His  patron  was  a  young  man  of  verdant  appearance, 
who,  it  was  quite  evident,  hailed  from  the  country. 
He  wore  a  blue  coat  with  brass  buttons,  and  a  tall 
hat  in  the  style  of  ten  years  before,  with  an  immense 
top.  He  gazed  with  complacency  at  the  fine  polish 
which  Ben  had  imparted  to  his  boots,  —  a  pair  of 
etout  cowhides,  —  and  inquired  with  an  assumption 
of  indifference :  — 


Hi  MARK,    THE   MaTCH  BOY  I 

11  Well,  boy,  what's  the  tax?  " 
'Twenty-five  cents,"  said  Ben,  coolly. 

"  Twentj-five  cents  !  "  ejaculated  the  customer, 
with  a  gasp  of  amazement.  °  Come  now,  you'ra 
iokin'." 

'*  No,  I  aint,"  said  Ben. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  charge  twenty-five 
lents  for  five  minutes'  work?  " 

"  Reg'lar  price,"  said  Ben. 

"  Why  I  don't  get  but  twelve  and  a  half  cents  an 
hour  when  I  work  out  hay  in',"  said  the  young  man 
in  a  tone  expressive  of  his  sense  of  the  unfairness  of 
the  comparative  compensation. 

"  Maybe  you  don't  have  to  pay  a  big  license," 
Baid  Ben. 

"A  license  for  blackin'  boots?"  ejaculated  the 
countryman,  in  surprise. 

"In  course.  I  have  to  deposit  five  hundred  dol- 
lars, more  or  less,  in  the  city  treasury,  before  I  can 
black  boots." 

"Five — hundred — dollars!"  repeated  the  cus- 
tomer, opening  his  eyes  wide  at  the  information. 

"  In  course,"  said  Ben.  "  If  I  didn't  they'd  put 
me  in  jail  for  a  year." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARV.  113 

''And  does  he  pay  a  license  too?"  asked  the 
countryman,  pointing  to  Mark,  who  had  just  come  up. 

"He  only  has  to  pay  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars." 
said  Ben.      "  They  aint  so  hard  on  him  as  on  us." 

The  young  man  drew  out  his  wallet  reluctantly, 
and  managed  to  raise  twenty-three  cents,  which  he 
handed  to  Ben. 

"I  wouldn't  have  had  my  boots  blacked,  if  I'd 
known  the  price,"  he  said.  "  I  could  have  blacked 
'em  myself  at  home.  They  didn't  cost  but  three  dol- 
lars, and  it  don't  pay  to  give  twenty -five  cents  to 
have  'em  blacked." 

"It'll  make  'em  last  twice  as  long,"  said  Ben. 
"  My  blackin'  is  the  superiorest  kind,  and  keeps 
boots  from  wearin'  out." 

"  I  havn't  got  the  other  two  cents,"  said  the  young 
man.     "  Aint  that  near  enough  ?  " 

"  It'll  do,"  said  Ben,  magnanimously,  "  seein'  you 
didn't  know  the  price." 

The  victimized  customer  walked  away,  gratified  to 
have  saved  the  two  cents,  but  hardly  reconciled  to 
have  expended  almost  quarter  of  a  dollar  on  a  piece 
of  work  which  he  might  have  done  himself  before 
leaving  home. 
8 


114  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY; 

"  Well,  what  luck,  Mark  ?  "  said  Ben.  "  I  took 
in  that  chap  neat,  didn't  I?  " 

"  But  you  didn't  tell  the  truth,"  said  Mark.  "You 
don't  have  to  buy  a  license." 

"  Oh,  what's  the  odds  ?  "  said  Ben,  whose  ideas  on 
the  subject  of  truth  were  far  from  being  strict.  "  It's 
all  fair  in  business.  Didn't  that  chap  open  his  eyes 
when  I  told  him  about  payin'  five  hundred  dollars  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  it's  right,  Ben,"  said  Mark,  seri- 
ously. 

"  Don't  you  go  to  preachin',  Mark,"  said  Ben,  not 
altogether  pleased.  "  You've  been  tied  to  an  old 
woman's  apron-string  too  long,  —  that's  what's  the 
matter  with  you." 

"  Mother  Watson  didn't  teach  me  the  truth,"  said 
Mark.  "  She  don't  care  whether  I  tell  it  or  not  ex- 
cept to  her.  It  was  my  mother  that  told  me  I  ought 
always  to  tell  the  truth." 

"Women  don't  know  anything  about  business," 
said  Ben.  "  Nobody  in  business  speaks  the  truth. 
Do  you  see  that  sign  ?  " 

Mark  looked  across  the  street,  and  saw  a  large 
placard,  setting  forth  that  a  stock  of  books  and  sta- 
tionery was  selling  off  at  less  than  cost. 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  115 

"  Do  you  believe  that  ?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  Perhaps  it's  true,"  said  Mark. 

"  Then  you're  jolly  green,  that's  all  I've  got  to 
§ay,"  said  Ben.  "  But  you  haven't  told  me  how 
much  you've  made." 

"  See  here,"  said  Mark,  and  he  drew  out  his  stock 
of  money. 

"  Whew  !  "  whistled  Ben,  in  amazement.  "  You'r© 
in  luck.  I  guess  you've  been  speculatin'  on  youi 
license  too." 

"  No,"  said  Mark  ;  "  one  gentleman  gave  me  fifty 
cents,  and  two  others  paid  me  double  price." 

"Why,  you're  gettin'  rich  !  "  said  Ben.  "  Aint 
you  glad  you've  left  the  old  woman  ?  " 

But  just  then  Mark  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  saw  a 
sight  that  blanched  his  cheek.  There,  bearing  down 
upon  him,  and  already  but  a  few  feet  distant,  was 
Mother  Watson  !  She  was  getting  over  the  ground 
as  fast  as  her  stoutness  would  allow.  She  had  al- 
ready caught  sight  of  Mark,  and  her  inflamed  eyes 
were  sparkling  with  triumphant  joy.  Mark  saw 
with  terror  that  her  hand  was  already  feeling  in  the 
pocket  where  she  kept  the  leather  strap.  Much  aa 
he  always  feared  the  strap,  the  idea  of  having  it  ap 


116  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY ; 

plied  to  him  in  the  public  street  made  it  even  mora 
distasteful. 

"What  shall  I  do,  Ben?"  he  said,  clutching  the 
arm  of  his  companion. 

"What  are  you  afraid  of?  Do  you  see  a  copp 
after  you?  " 

A  "  copp  "  is  the  street-boy's  name  for  a  police- 
man. 

•'  No,"  said  Mark  ;  "  there's  Mother  Watson  com- 
ing after  me.     Don't  you  see  her  ?  " 

"  That's  Mother  Watson,  is  it?  "  asked  Ben,  sur- 
veying the  old  body  with  a  critical  eye.  "  She's  a 
beauty,  she  is  !  " 

"  What  shall  I  do,  Ben  ?     She'll  beat  me." 

"  No,  she  won't,"  said  Ben.  "  You  just  keep  quiet, 
and  leave  her  to  me.  Don't  be  afraid.  She  shan't 
touch  you." 

"  She  might  strike  you,"  said  Mark,  apprehen- 
iively. 

"She'd  better  not!"  said  Ben,  very  decidedly ; 
"  not  unless  she  wants  to  be  landed  in  the  middle  of 
next  week  at  very  short  notice." 

By  this  time  Mother  Watson  came  up,  puffing  and 
panting  with  the  extraordinary  efforts  she  had  made 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  117 

She  could  not  speak  at  first,  but  stood  and  glared  at 
the  match  boy  in  a  vindictive  way. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  old  lady?  "  asked 
Ben,  coolly.  "You  aint  took  sick,  be  you?  I'd 
offer  to  support  your  delicate  form,  but  I'm  afraid 
you'd  be  too  much  for  me." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  runnin'  away  from  home, 
you  little  thief?"  said  the  old  woman,  at  length 
regaining  her  breath.  Of  course  her  remark  was 
addressed  to  Mark. 

"  You're  very  polite,  old  lady,"  said  Ben;  "  but 
I've  adopted  that  boy,  and  he's  goin'  to  live  with  me 
now." 

"I  aint  speakin'  to  you,  you  vagabone !  "  said 
Mother  Watson,  "  so  you  needn't  give  me  no  more  of 
your  impertinence.     I'm  a-speakin'  to  him." 

"I'm  not  going  to  live  with  you  any  more/'  said 
Mark,  gaining  a  little  courage  from  the  coolness  of 
his  friend,  the  boot-black. 

"Aint  a  goin'  to  live  with  me?  "  gasped  the  old 
W3man,  who  could  hardly  believe  she  heard  aright 
'•  Come  right  away,  sir,  or  I'll  drag  you  home." 

"  Don't  you  stir,  Mark,"  said  Ben. 

Mother  Watson  drew  out  her  strap,  and  tried  t« 


118  MARK,    THE   MATCH    BOY / 

get  at  the  match  boy,  but  Ben  put  himself  persist- 
ently in  her  way. 

"  Clear  out,  you  vagabone  !  "  said  the  old  lady. 
''  or  I'll  give  you  something  to  make  you  quiet." 

"You'd  better  keep  quiet  yourself,"  said  Ben,  not 
in  the  least  frightened.  "Don't  you  be  afraid, 
Mark.  If  she  kicks  up  a  rumpus,  I'll  give  her  over 
to  a  copp.     Hell  settle  her." 

Mother  Watson  by  this  time  was  very  much  in- 
censed. She  pulled  out  her  strap,  and  tried  to  get 
at  Mark,  but  the  boot-black  foiled  her  efforts  con- 
stantly. 

Carried  away  with  anger,  she  struck  Ben  with  the 
strap. 

"  Look  here,  old  lady,"  said  Ben,  "  that's  goin'  a 
little  too  far.  You  won't  use  that  strap  again;  "  and 
with  a  dexterous  and  vigorous  grasp  he  pulled  it  out 
of  her  hand. 

"Give  me  that  strap,  you  vagabone  !  "  screamed 
the  old  woman,  furiously. 

"Look  here,  old  lady,  what  are  you  up  to?" 
demanded  the  voice  of  one  having  authority. 

Mother  Watson,  turning  round,  saw  an  object  fof 
which  she  never  had  much  partiality,  —  a  policeman 


OR,    RICIIARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  119 

"  0  sir,"  said  she,  bursting  into  maudlin  tears, 
M  it's  iny  bad  boy  that  I  want  to  come  home,  and  he 
won't  come.'' 

"Which  is  your  boy, — that  one?"  asked  the 
policeman,  pointing  to  Bon  Gibson. 

"  No,  not  that  vagabone  !  "  said  the  old  woman, 
spitefully.  ''I  wouldn't  own  him.  It's  that  othei 
boy." 

"  Do  you  belong  to  her?  "  asked  the  officer,  ad- 
dressing Mark. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  match  boy. 

"He  does,"  vociferated  the  old  woman. 

"  Is^he  your  son?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's  hesitation. 

"  Is  he  any  relation  of  yours  ?  " 

"Yes,  he's  my  nephew,"  said  Mother  Watson, 
making  up  her  mind  to  a  falsehood  as  the  only  means 
of  recovering  Mark. 

"  Is  this  true  ?  "  asked  the  officer. 

"No,  it  isn't."  said  Mark.  "She's  no  relation 
to  me,  but  when  my  mother  died  she  offered  to  take 
care  of  me.  Instead  of  that  she's  half  starved  me, 
and  beaten  me  with  a  strap  when  I  didn't  bring 
home  as  much  money  as  she  wanted." 


120  MARE,    THE   MATCH    BOY; 

"  Then  you  don't  want  to  go  back  with  her  ?" 

"  No,  I'm  going  to  take  care  of  myself." 

c<  Is  there  anybody  that  will  prove  the  truth  o! 
what  you  say  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,"  said  Mark,  "I'll  call  Mrs.  Flanagan." 

"  Who  is  she  ?  " 

"  She  lives  in  the  same  house  with  us." 

"  Shall  he  call  her,  or  will  you  give  him  up?' 
asked  the  officer.  "  By  the  way,  I  think  you're  the 
same  woman  I  saw  drunk  in  the  street  last  week." 

Mother  Watson  took  alarm  at  this  remark,  and, 
muttering  that  it  was  hard  upon  a  poor  widder  woman 
to  take  her  only  nephew  from  her,  shuffled  off,  leav- 
ing Mark  and  Ben  in  full  possession  of  the  field,  with 
the  terrible  strap  thrown  in  as  a  trophy  of  the  vic- 
tory they  had  won. 

"I  know  her  of  old,"  said  the  policeman.  "1 
guess  youll  do  as  well  without  her  as  with  her." 

Satisfied  that  there  would  be  no  more  trouble,  he 
resumed  his  walk,  and  Mark  felt  that  now  in  truth 
he  was  free  and  independent. 

As  Mother  Watson  will  not  reappear  in  this 
story,  it  may  bo  said  that  only  a  fortnight  later  she 
was  arrested  for  an  assault  upon  her  sister,  the  pro- 


OR.    RICHARD  HUNTER' S    WARD.  121 

prietor  of  the  apple-stand,  from  whom  she  had  en- 
deavored in  vain  to  extort  a  loan,  and  was  sentenced 
to  the  island  for  a  period  of  three  months,  durii^ 
which  she  ceased  to  grace  metropolitan  society. 


i-'2  MA  UK,    THE   MATCH   BOY; 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE    NEWSBOYS'    LODGING     HOUSB. 

WnEN  Mother  Watson  had  turned  the  oorner, 
Mark  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Don:t  you  think  she'll  come  back  again?  "  he 
asked  anxiously  of  Ben  Gibson. 

"  No,"  said  Ben,  "she's  scared  of  the  copp.  If 
she  ever  catches  you  alone,  and  tries  to  come  any  of 
her  games,  just  call  a  copp,  and  she'll  be  in  a  hurry 
to  leave." 

"  Well,"  said  Mark,  "  I  guess  I'll  try  to  sell  the 
rest  of  my  matches.     I  haven't  got  but  a  few." 

"  All  right;  I'll  try  for  another  shine,  and  then 
we'll  go  and  have  some  dinner.  I'd  like  to  get  hold 
of  another  greeny." 

Mark  started  with  his  few  remaining  matches. 
The  feeling  that  he  was  his  own  master,  and  had  a 
little  hoard  of  money  for  present  expenses,  gave  him 
courage,  and  he  was  no  longer  deterred  by  his  usual 


OR.    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  123 

nrnidi  y.  In  an  hour  he  had  succeeded  in  getting 
rid  of  \11  his  matches,  and  he  was  now  the  possessor 
of  tw(  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents,  including  the 
money  Ben  Gibson  owed  him.  Ben  also  was  lucky 
enough  to  get  two  ten-cent  customers,  which  helped 
his  rec  ipts  by  twenty  cents.  Ben,  it  may  be  re 
marked  was  not  an  advocate  of  the  one-price  system. 
He  bla'  <ed  boots  for  five  cents  when  he  could  get  no 
more.  When  he  thought  there  was  a  reasonable 
prosper-  of  getting  ten  cents,  that  was  his  price. 
Sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  the  young  man  from  the 
rural  districts,  he  advanced  his  fee  to  twenty-five 
tents.  I  don't  approve  Ben's  system  for  my  part. 
[  think  it  savors  considerably  of  sharp  practice,  and 
lhat  fair  prices  in  the  long  run  are  the  best  for  all 
parties. 

The  boys  met  again  at  one  o'clock,  and  adjourned 
to  a  cheap  underground  restaurant  on  Nassau  Street, 
where  they  obtained  what  seemed  to  them  a  luxu- 
rious meal  of  beefsteak,  with  a  potato,  a  small  plate 
of  bread,  and  a  cup  of  what  went  by  the  name  of 
coffee.  The  steak  was  not  quite  up  to  the  samp 
article  at  Delmonico's,  and  there  might  be  somp 
reasonable  doubts  as  to  whether  the  coffee  was  a  gen- 


124  MARK,    TJ1E    MATCH    DOT; 

nine  article ;  but  as  neither  of  the  boys  knew  the  dif- 
ference, we  may  quote  Ben's  familiar  phrase,  and 
%y,  "What's  the  odds?" 

Indeed,  the  free  and  easy  manner  in  which  Ben 
threw  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  the  condescend- 
ing manner  in  which  he  assured  the  waiter  that  the 
Bteak  was  "  a  prime  article,"  could  hardly  have  been 
surpassed  in  the  most  aristocratic  circles. 

"Well,  Mark,  have  you  had  enough?"  asked 
Ben. 

"Yes,"  said  Mark. 

"Well,  I  haven't,"  said  Ben.  "I  guess  I'll 
have  some  puddin'.  Look  here,  Johnny,"  to  the 
colored  waiter,  "just  bring  a  feller  a  plate  of  apple 
dump  with  both  kinds  of  sauce." 

After  giving  this  liberal  order  Ben  tilted  his  chair 
back,  and  began  to  pick  his  teeth  with  his  fork.  He 
devoted  himself  with  assiduity  to  the  consumption  of 
the  pudding,  and  concluded  his  expensive  repast  by 
the  purchase  of  a  two-cent  cigar,  with  which  he 
ancended  to  the  street. 

"  Better  have  a  cigar,  Mark,"  he  said. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  the  match  boy.  "  I  thinlf 
I'd  rather  not." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  125 

1  Oh,  you're  feared  of  being  sick.     You'll  come  to 
it  in  time.     All  business  men  smoke." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  upon  the  events  of  the 
afternoon.  Mark  was  satisfied  with  the  result  of  hia 
morning's  work,  and  waited  about  with  Ben  till  the 
close  of  the  afternoon,  when  the  question  came  up, 
as  to  where  the  night  should  be  passed. 

"  [  guess  we'd  better  go  to  the  Lodge,"  said  Ben 
''Were  you  ever  there  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mark. 

"  Well,  come  along.  They'll  give  us  a  jolly  bed, 
all  for  six  cents,  and  there's  a  good,  warm  room  to 
stay  in.  Then  we  can  get  breakfast  in  the  mornin' 
for  six  cents  more." 

"  All  right, "  said  Mark.     "  We'll  go." 

The  down-town  Newsboys'  Lodging  House  was  at 
that  time  located  at  the  corner  of  Fulton  and  Nassau 
Streets.  It  occupied  the  fifth  and  sixth  stories  of 
the  building  then  known  as  the  "  San  "building,  owned 
by  Moses  S.  Beach,  the  publisher  of  that  journal. 
In  the  year  1868  circumstances  rendered  it  expedi- 
dient  to  remove  the  Lodfre  to  a  building  in  Park 
Place  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  at  some  day  not  far 
distant  the  Children's  Aid  Society,  who  carry  on  thia 


126  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

beneficent  institution,  will  be  able  to  erect  a  building 
of  their  own  in  some  eligible  locality,  which  can  be 
permanently  devoted  to  a  purpose  so  praiseworthy. 

Ben  and  Mark  soon  reached  the  entrance  to  the 
Lodge  on  Fulton  Street.  They  ascended  several 
flights  of  narrow  stairs  till  they  reached  the  top 
story.  Then,  opening  a  door  at  the  left,  they  found 
themselves  in  the  main  room  of  the  Lodge.  It  was 
a  low-studded  room  of  considerable  dimensions,  amply 
supplied  with  windows,  looking  out  on  Fulton  and 
Nassau  Streets.  At  the  side  nearest  the  door  was  a 
low  platform,  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  room  by 
a  railing.  On  this  platform  were  a  table  and  two  or 
three  chairs.  This  was  the  place  for  the  superintend- 
ent, and  for  gentlemen  who  from  time  to  time  ad- 
dress the  boys. 

The  superintendent  at  that  time  was  Mr.  Charles 
O'Connor,  who  still  retains  the  office.  Probably  no 
one  could  be  found  better  adapted  to  the  difficult  task 
9f  managing  the  class  of  boys  who  avail  themselves 
of  the  good  offices  of  the  Newsboys'  Home.  Ilia 
mild  yet  firm  manner,  and  more  than  all  the  convic- 
tion that  he  is  their  friend,  and  feels  a  hearty  interest 
in  their  welfare,  secure  a  degree  of  decorum  aud 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER1  S    WARD.  127 

good  behavior  which  could  hardly  be  anticipated. 
Oaths  and  vulgar  speech,  however  common  in  the 
street,  are  rarely  heard  here,  or,  if  heard,  meet  with 
instant  rebuke. 

The  superintendent  was  in  the  room  when  Ben 
and  Mark  entered. 

"Well.  Ben,  what  luck  have  you  had  to-day?" 
said  Mr.  O'Connor. 

"  Pretty  good,"  said  Ben. 

"  And  who  is  that  with  you?  " 

."Mother  Watson's  nephew,"  said  Ben,  with  a 
grimace. 

"  He's  only  joking,  sir,"  said  Mark.     "  My  nam* 
is  Mark  Man  ton." 

"lam  glad  to  see  you,  Mark,"  said  the  superi» 
tendent.     "  What  is  your  business  ?  " 

"I  sell  matches,  sir." 

"  Have  you  parents  living  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  they  are  both  dead." 

"  Where  have  you  been  living?  " 

"In  Vandewater  Street." 

"  With  any  one  ?  " 

"Yes,  with  a  woman  they  call  Mother  Watson." 

"  Is  she  a  relation  of  yours  ?  " 


128  MARK,    THE   MATCH  SOT J 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Mark,  hastily. 

"  What  sort  of  a  woman  is  she  ?  " 

"  Bad  enough,  sir.  She  gets  drunk  about  every 
day  and  used  to  beat  me  with  a  strap  when  I  did 
aot  bring  home  as  much  money  as  she  expected." 

"  So  you  have  left  her?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  up  here  before  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  I  suppose  you  know  the  rules  of  the  place." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  Ben  has  told  me." 

"  You  had  better  go  and  wash.  We  shall  have 
supper  pretty  quick.     Have  you  any  money  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Mark  took  out  his  hoard  of  money,  and  showed  it 
to  the  superintendent,  who  was  surprised  at  the 
amount. 

"  How  did  you  get  so  much?  "  he  asked. 

"  Part  of  it  was  given  me,"  said  Mark. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?  You  don't 
need  it  all?" 

"Will  you  keep  it  for  me,  sir  ?  " 

11 1  will  put  as  much  of  it  as  you  can  spare  into 
the  bank  for  you.     This  is  our  bank.'' 


OR.    RICHARD   HUNTER7 S    WARD.  129 

lie  pointed  to  a  table  beside  the  railing  on  the  out- 
side. The  top  of  it  was  pierced  with  narrow  slits, 
each  having  a  number  attached.  Each  compartment 
was  assigned  to  any  boy  who  desired  it,  and  his  daily 
earnings  were  dropped  in  at  the  end  of  the  day. 
Once  a  month  the  bank  was  opened,  and  the  deposi- 
tor was  at  liberty  to  withdraw  his  savings  if  he  de- 
sired it.  This  is  an  excellent  arrangement,  as  it  has 
a  tendency  to  teach  frugal  habits  to  the  young 
patrons  of  the  Lodge.  Extravagance  is  one  of  their 
besetting  sins.  Many  average  a  dollar  and  over  as 
daily  earnings,  yet  are  always  ragged  and  out  at 
elbows,  and  often  are  unsupplied  with  the  small  price 
of  a  night's  lodging  at  the  Home.  The  money  is 
squandered  on  gambling,  cigars,  and  theatre-going, 
while  the  same  sum  would  make  them  comfortable 
and  independent  of  charity.  The  disposition  to  save 
>s  generally  the  first  encouraging  symptom  in  a 
street  boy,  and  shows  that  he  has  really  a  desire  to 
rise  above  his  circumstances,  and  gain  a  respectable 
position  in  the  world. 

Ben,    who    had    long    frequented    the    Lodging 
House  off  and  on,  led  the  way  to  the  washing-room, 
where  Mark,  to  his  satisfaction,  was  able  to  cleanse 
9 


130  MAIIK,    THE   MATCH  BOY ; 

himself  from  the  dust  and  impurity  of  the  street 
"At  Mother  Watson's  he  had  had  no  accommodationa 
of  the  kind,  as  the  old  lady  was  not  partial  to  water 
either  internally  or  externally.  He  was  forced  to 
snatch  such  opportunities  as  he  could  find. 

"Now,"  said  Ben,  "well  go  into  the  gymna- 
sium." 

A  room  opposite  the  main  room  had  been  fitted  up 
with  a  few  of  the  principal  appliances  of  a  gymna- 
sium, and  these  were  already  in  use  by  quite  a  num- 
ber of  boys. 

Mark  looked  on,  but  did  not  participate,  partly 
from  bash  fulness,  and  partly  because  he  did  not  very 
well  understand  the  use  of  the  different  appli- 
ances. 

"  How  do  you  like  it  ?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  Very  much,"  said  Mark,  with  satisfaction.  "  I'm 
glad  you  brought  me  here." 

"  I'll  show  you  the  beds  by  and  by,"  said  Ben. 

The  rooms  on  the  floor  below  were  used  for  lodg- 
ing. Tiers  of  neat  beds,  some  like  those  in  a  steam- 
boat or  a  hospital,  filled  a  large  room.  They  were 
?cry  neat  in  appearance,  and  looked  comfortable. 
In  order  to  insure  their  continuing  neat,  the  super- 


OR,    RICHARD    HUXTER's    WARD.  131 

intendent  requires  such  as  need  it  to  wash  their  feet 
before  retiring  to  bed 

The  supper  was  of  course  plain,  but  of  good  qual- 
ity and  sufficient  quantity. 

About  nine  o'clock  Mark  got  into  the  neat  bed 
which  was  assigned  him,  and  felt  that  it  was  more 
satisfactory  even  than  the  cabin  of  a  Brooklyn  ferry- 
boat. He  slept  peacefully  except  towards  morning, 
when  he  dreamed  that  his  old  persecutor,  Mother 
Watson,  was  about  to  apply  the  dreaded  strap.  He 
woke  up  terrified,  but  soon  realized  with  deep  satia- 
tion that  he  was  no  longer  in  her  clutchea. 


182  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOT; 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

WHAT   BEFELL   THE    MATCH   BCT. 

During  the  next  three  months  Mark  made  his 
home  at  the  Lodging  House.  He  was  easily  able  to 
meet  the  small  charges  of  the  Lodge  for  bed  and 
breakfast,  and  saved  up  ten  dollars  besides  in  the 
bank.  Ben  Gibson  began  to  look  upon  him  as  quite 
a  capitalist. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  save  up  so  much  money, 
Mark,"  he  said.  "  You  don't  earn  more'n  half  as 
much  as  I  do." 

"  It's  because  you  spend  so  much,  Ben.  It  costs 
you  considerable  for  cigars  and  such  things,  you 
know,  and  then  you  go  to  the  Old  Bowery  pretty 
often." 

"A  feller  must  have  some  fun,"  said  Ben. 
"  They've  got  a  tearin'  old  play  at  the  Bowery  now 
You'd  better  come  to-night." 

Mark  shook  his  head. 


OR,    RICHARD   IIVNTER'S    WARD.  133 

*'I  feel  pretty  tired  when  it  comes  night,"  he 
said.     "  I'd  rather  stay  at  home." 

"  You  aint  so  tough  as  I  am,"  said  Ben. 

"No,"  said  Mark,  "I  don't  feel  very  strong.  I 
think  something's  the  matter  with  me." 

"Nothin'  aint  ever  the  matter  with  me,"  said 
Ben,  complacently;  "  but  you're  a  puny  little  chap, 
that  look  as  if  you  might  blow  away  some  day." 

It  was  now  April,  and  the  weather  was  of  that 
mild  character  that  saps  the  strength  and  produces 
a  feeling  of  weakness  and  debility.  Mark  had  been 
exposed  during  the  winter  to  the  severity  of  stormy 
weather,  and  more  than  once  got  thoroughly  drenched. 
It  was  an  exposure  that  Ben  would  only  have 
laughed  at,  but  Mark  was  slightly  built,  without 
much  strength  of  constitution,  and  he  had  been 
feeling  very  languid  for  a  few  days,  so  that  it  was 
with  an  effort  that  he  dragged  himself  round  during 
the  day  with  his  little  bundle  of  matches. 

This  conversation  with  Ben  took  place  in  the 
morning  just  as  both  boys  were  going  to  work. 

They  separated  at  the  City  Hall  Park,  Ben  finding 
a  customer  in  front  of  the  "  Times  "  building,  while 
Mark,  after  a  little  deliberation,  decided  to  go  on  to 


/84  MARK,    THB  MATCH   BOY ; 

Pearl  Street  with  his  matches.  He  had  visited  the 
offices  in  most  of  the  lower  streets,  but  this  was  a 
new  region  to  him,  and  he  thought  he  might  meet 
with  better  success  there.  So  he  kept  on  his 
way. 

The  warm  sun  and  the  sluggish  air  made  his  head 
ache,  and  he  felt  little  disposition  to  oner  his  wares 
for  sale.  He  called  at  one  or  two  offices,  but  effect- 
ed no  sales.  At  length  he  reached  a  large  ware- 
house with  these  names  displayed  on  the  sign  over 
the  door :  — 

"ROCKWELL   ft   COOPER." 

This,  as  the  reader  will  remember,  was  the  es- 
tablishment in  which  Richard  Hunter,  formerly 
Ragged  Dick,  was  now  book-keeper. 

At  this  point  a  sudden  faintness  came  over  Mark, 
and  he  sank  to  the  ground  insensible. 

A  moment  before  Richard  Hunter  handed  a  couple 
of  letters  to  the  office  boy,  —  known  to  the  readers 
of  the  earlier  volumes  in  this  series  as  Micky 
Maguire, — and  said,  "Michael,  1  should  like  to 
have  you  carry  these  at  once  to  the  post-office.     On 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  135 

the  way  you  may  stop  at  Trescott  &  Wayne's,  and 
get  this  bill  cashed,  if  possible." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Hunter,"  said  Michael,  respect- 
fully. 

Richard  Hunter  and  Micky  Maguire  had  been 
boot-blacks  together,  and  had  had  more  than  one  con- 
test for  the  supremacy.  They  had  been  sworn 
enemies,  and  Micky  had  done  his  utmost  to  injure 
Richard,  but  the  latter,  by  his  magnanimity,  had  fi- 
nally wholly  overcome  the  antipathy  of  his  former  foe, 
and,  when  opportunity  offered,  had  lifted  him  to  a 
position  in  the  office  where  he  was  himself  employed. 
In  return,  Micky  had  become  an  enthusiastic  admirer 
of  Richard,  and,  so  far  from  taking  advantage  of  their 
former  relations,  had  voluntarily  taken  up  the  habit 
of  addressing  him  as  Mr.  Hunter. 

Michael  went  out  on  his  errand,  but  just  outside 
the  door  came  near  stepping  upon  the  prostrate  form 
of  the  little  match  boy. 

"Get  up  here!"  he  said,  roughly,  supposing  at 
first  that  Mark  had  thrown  himself  down  out  of 
laziness  and  gone  to  sleep. 

Mark  didn't  answer,  and  Micky,  bending  over, 
saw  his  fixed  expression  and  waxen  pallor . 


136  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

"Mavbe  the  little  chap's  dead,"  he  thought, 
startled,  and,  without  more  ado,  took  him  up  in  hia 
strong  arms  and  carried  him  into  the  counting- 
room. 

"  Wh:  have  you  got  there,  Michael  ?  "  asked  Rich- 
ard Hunter,  turning  round  in  surprise. 

"  A  little  match  boy  that  was  lyin'  just  outside 
the  door.     He  looks  as  if  he  might  be  dead." 

Richard  jumped  at  once  from  his  stool,  and,  ap- 
proaching the  boy,  looked  earnestly  in  his  face. 

"He  has  fainted  away,"  he  said,  after  a  pause. 
"  Bring  some  water,  quick  !  " 

Micky  brought  a  glass  of  water,  which  was  thrown 
in  the  face  of  Mark.  The  match  boy  gave  a  little 
Bhiver,  and,  opening  his  eyes,  fixed  them  upon  Rich- 
ard Hunter. 

"Where  am  I?"  he  asked,  vacantly. 

"You  are  with  friends,"  said  Richard,  gently. 
"You  were  found  at  our  door  faint.  Do  you  feel 
lick?" 

"I  feel  weak,"  said  Mark. 

"  Have  you  been  well  lately  ?  " 

"  No,  I've  felt  tired  and  weak." 

"  Are  you  a  match  boy  ?  " 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTERS    WARD.  J  57 

<*Yes." 

"  Have  you  parents  living?  " 

1  No,"  said  Mark. 

a  Poor  fellow!"  said  Richard.  "I  know  how 
to  pity  you.     I  have  no  parents  either." 

"But  you  have  got  money,"  said  Mark.  "You 
don't  have  to  live  in  the  street." 

"  I  was  once  a  street  boy  like  you." 

"  You  !  "  repeated  the  match  boy,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes.     But  where  do  you  sleep?  " 

"  At  the  Lodging  House." 

"  It  is  a  good  place.  Michael,  you  had  better  go 
to  the  post-office  now." 

Mark  looked  about  him  a  little  anxiously. 

"  Where  are  my  matches?  "  he  asked. 

"  Just  outside ;  I'll  get  them,"  said  Michael, 
promptly. 

He  brought  them  in,  and  then  departed  on  hia 
errand. 

"I  guess  I'd  better  be  going,"  said  Mark,  rising 
feebly 

"  No,"  said  Richard.  "  You  are  not  able.  Come 
here  and  sit  down.  You  will  feel  stronger  by  and 
by.      Did  you  eat  any  breakfast  this  morning  ?  ' 


138  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY, 

"A  little,"  said  Mark,  "but  I  was  not  very  hun« 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  eat  anything  now  ?  " 

Mark  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "I  don't  feel  hungry.  I  only 
feel  tired." 

"  Would  you  like  to  rest  ?  " 

"Yes.     That's  all  I  want." 

"  Come  here  then,  and  I  will  see  what  I  can  do 
for  you." 

Mark  followed  his  new  friend  into  the  warehouse, 
where  Richard  found  a  soft  bale  of  cotton,  and  told 
Mark  he  might  lie  down  upon  it.  This  the  poor  boy 
was  glad  enough  to  do.  In  his  weakness  he  was  dis- 
posed to  sleep,  and  soon  closed  his  eyes  in  slumber. 
Several  times  Richard  went  out  to  look  at  him,  but 
found  him  dozing,  and  was  unwilling  to  interrupt 
him. 

The  day  wore  away,  and  afternoon  came. 

Mark  got  up  from  his  cotton  bale,  and  with 
unsteady  steps  came  to  the  door  of  the  counting- 
room. 

"  I'm  going,"  he  said. 

Richard  turned  round. 


OR,    ItlCHABD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  139 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"I'm  going  to  the  Lodge.  I  think  I  won't  sell 
any  more  matches  to-day." 

"  I'll  take  all  you've  left,"  said  Richard.  "  Don't 
trouble  yourself  about  them.  But  you  are  not  going 
to  the  Lodge." 

Mark  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"I  shall  take  you  home  with  me  to-night,"  he 
said.  "  You  are  not  well,  and  I  will  look  after  you. 
At  the  Lodge  there  will  be  a  crowd  of  boys,  and  the 
noise  will  do  you  harm." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Mark  ;  "  but  I'm  afraid 
I'll  trouble  you." 

"  No,"  said  Richard,  "  I  shan't  count  it  a  trouble. 
I  was  once  a  poor  boy  like  you,  and  I  found  friends. 
I'll  be  your  friend.  Go  back  and  lie  down  again, 
and  in  about  an  hour  I  shall  be  ready  to  take  you 
with  me." 

It  seemed  strange  to  Mark  to  think  that  there  was 
Bomebody  who  proposed  to  protect  and  look  after  him. 
In  many  of  the  offices  which  he  visited  he  met  with 
rough  treatment,  and  was  ordered  out  of  the  way,  aa 
if  he  were  a  dog,  and  without  human  feelings.  Many 
who  treated  him  in  this  way  were  really  kind-hearted 


140  MAJtK,    THE   MATCH   BOY; 

men  who  had  at  home  children  whom  they  loved,  bul 
they  appeared  to  forget  that  these  neglected  children 
of  the  street  had  feelings  and  wants  as  well  as  their 
own,  who  were  tenderly  nurtured.  They  did  not  re- 
member that  they  were  somebody's  children,  and 
that  cold,  and  harshness,  and  want  were  as  hard  for 
them  to  bear  as  for  those  in  a  higher  rank  of  life. 
But  Mark  was  in  that  state  of  weakness  when  it 
seemed  sweet  to  throw  off  all  care  or  thought  for  the 
future,  and  to  sink  back  upon  the  soft  bale  with  the 
thought  that  he  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  rest. 

"  That  boy  is  going  to  be  sick,"  thought  Richard 
Hunter  to  himself.  "  I  think  he  is  going  to  have  a 
fever." 

It  was  because  of  this  thought  that  he  decided  to 
carry  him  home.  He  had  a  kind  heart,  and  he  knew 
how  terrible  a  thing  sickness  is  to  these  little  street 
waifs,  who  have  no  mother  or  sister  to  smooth  their 
pillows,  or  cheer  them  with  gentle  words.  The 
friendless  condition  of  the  little  match  boy  touched 
his  heart,  and  he  resolved  that,  as  he  had  the  means 
of  taking  care  of  him,  he  would  do  so 

"  Michael,"  he  said,  at  the  close  of  business  houra 
"  I  wish  you  would  call  a  hack." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  141 

"What,  to  come  here?"  asked  Micky,  surprised. 

"  Yes.  I  am  going  to  take  that  little  boy  home 
with  me.  I  think  he  is  going  to  be  sick,  and  I  am 
afraid  he  would  have  a  bard  time  of  it  if  I  sent  him 
back  into  the  street." 

"  Bully  for  you,  Mr.  Hunter  !  "  said  Micky,  who, 
though  rough  in  his  outward  manners,  was  yet  capa- 
ble of  appreciating  kindness  in  others.  There  were 
times  indeed  in  the  past  when  he  had  treated  smaller 
boys  brutally,  but  it  was  under  the  influence  of  pas- 
sion. He  had  improved  greatly  since,  and  his  better 
nature  was  beginning  to  show  itself. 

Micky  went  out,  and  soon  returned  in  state  inside 
a  hack.  He  was  leaning  back,  thinking  it  would  be 
a  very  good  thing  if  he  had  a  carriage  of  his  own  to 
ride  in.  But  I  am  afraid  that  day  will  never  come. 
Micky  has  already  turned  out  much  better  than  was 
expected,  but  he  is  hardly  likely  to  rise  much  higher 
than  the  subordinate  position  he  now  occupies.  In 
capacity  and  education  he  is  far  inferior  to  his  old 
associate,  Richard  Hunter,  who  is  destined  to  rise 
much  higher  than  at  present. 

Richard  Hunter  went  to  the  rear  of  the  ware- 
house where  Mark  still  lay  on  his  bale. 


112  MAIiK,    THE   MATCH   BOY  J 

"  Coine,"  he  said ;   "  we'll  go  home  now." 

Mark  rose  from  his  recumbent  position,  and 
Walked  to  the  door.  He  saw  with  surprise  the  car- 
riage, the  door  of  which  Micky  Maguire  held  open. 

"  Are  we  going  to  ride  in  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Richard  Hunter.  "  Let  me  help  you 
in." 

The  little  match  boy  sank  back  in  the  soft  seat  in 
fague  surprise  at  his  good  luck.  He  could  not  help 
wondering  what  Ben  Gibson  would  say  if  he  could 
see  him  now. 

Richard  Hunter  sat  beside  him,  and  supported 
Mark's  head.  The  driver  whipped  up  his  horse,  and 
they  were  speedily  ^n  their  way  up  the  Bowery  to 
St  Mark's  Place. 


OB,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  143 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD. 

It  was  about  half-past  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
when  the  carriage  containing  Richard  Hunter  and 
the  match  boy  stopped  in  front  of  his  boarding- 
place  in  St.  Mark's  Place.  Richard  helped  the 
little  boy  out,  saying,  cheerfully,  "Well,  we've  got 
home." 

"  Is  this  where  you  live  ?  "  asked  Mark,  faintly. 

"  Yes.     How  do  you  like  it?  " 

"  It's  a  nice  place.  I  am  afraid  you  are  taking 
too  much  trouble  about  me.", 

"  Don't  think  of  that.     Come  in." 

Richard  had  ascended  the  front  steps,  after  paying 
tne  hackman,  and  taking  out  his  night-key  opened 
the  outside  door. 

"  Come  upstairs,"  he  said. 

They  ascended  two  flights  of  stairs,  and  Richard 
threw  open  the  door  of  his  room.     A  fire  was  already 


144  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY  ; 

burning  in  the  grate,  and  it  looked  bright  and  cheer* 
ful. 

11  Do  you  feel  tired  ?  :*  asked  Richard. 

"  Yes,  a  little." 

"  Then  lie  right  down  on  the  bed.  You  are  hungry 
too,  —  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  A  little." 

"  I  will  have  something  sent  up  to  you." 

Just  then  Fosdick,  who,  it  will  be  remembered, 
was  Richard  Hunter's  room-mate,  entered  the  room. 
He  looked  with  surprise  at  Mark,  and  then  inquir- 
ingly at  Richard. 

"It  is  a  little  match  boy,"  explained  the  lattei. 
"  who  fell  in  a  fainting-fit  in  front  of  our  office.  I 
think  the  poor  fellow  is  going  to  be  sick,  so  I 
brought  him  home,  and  mean  to  take  care  of  him  till 
he  is  well." 

"  You  must  let  me  share  the  expense,  Dick,"  said 
Fosdick. 

"  No,  but  I'll  let  you  share  the  care  of  him. 
That  will  do  just  as  well." 

"  But  I  would  rather  share  the  expense.  He  re- 
minds me  of  the  way  I  was  situated  when  I  fell  in 
with  you.     What  is  your  name?  " 


OR,    RTCHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  145 

'  Mark  Manton,"  said  the  match  boy. 
'I've  certainly  seen  him  somewhere  before,''  said 
Fosdick,  reflectively.     "His  face  looks  familiar    to 
me." 

"  So  it  does  to  me.  Perhaps  I've  seen  him  about 
the  streets  somewhere." 

"  I  have  it,"  said  Fosdick,  suddenly;  "  don't  you 
remember  the  boy  we  saw  sleeping  in  the  cabin  of 
the  Fulton  Ferryboat?" 

"Yes." 

"I  think  he  is  the  one.  Mark,"  he  continued, 
turning  to  the  match  boy,  "didn't  you  sleep  one 
night  on  a  Brooklyn  ferry-boat  about  three  months 
ago?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mark. 

"And  did  you  find  anything  in  your  vest-pocket 
in  the  morning?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  match  boy  with  interest.  "I 
fcuntl  a  dollar,  and  didn't  know  where  it  came  from 
Was  it  you  that  put  it  in?  " 

"He  had  a  hand  in  it,"  said  Fosdick,  pointing 
with  a  smile  to  his  room-mate. 

"I  was  very  glad  to  get  it,"    said  Mark.     "I 

only  had  eight  cents    besides,   and   that   gave    me 
10 


L46  MARK,    THE    MATCH    BOY / 

enough  to  buy  some  matches.  That  was  at  the  time 
I  ran  away." 

"  Who  did  you  run  away  from?  " 

"  From  Mother  Watson." 

"■  Mother  Watson  ?  "  repeated  Dick.  "  I  wonder 
if  I  don't  know  her.  She  is  a  very  handsome  old 
lady,  with  a  fine  red  complexion,  particularly  about 
the  nose." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mark,  with  a  smile. 

"  And  she  takes  whiskey   when  she  can  get  it?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  How  did  you  fall  in  with  her  ?  " 

"  She  promised  to  take  care  of  me  when  my  mother 
died,  but  instead  of  that  she  wanted  me  to  earn 
money  for  her." 

"  Yes,  she  was  always  a  very  disinterested  old 
lady.  So  it  appears  you  didn't  like  her  as  a  guar- 
dian?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  suppose  you  take  me.  Would  you  like  tc 
be  ray  ward?  " 

<!I  think  I  would,  but  I  don't  know  what  it 
means,"  said  Mark. 

"  It  means  that  I'm  tc  look  after  you,"  said  Dick, 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  147 

"just  as  if  I  was  jour  uncle  or  grandfather.  You 
may  call  me  grandfather  if  you  want  to." 

"  Oh,  you're  too  young,"  said  Mark,  amused  in 
epite  of  his  weakness. 

"  Then  we  won't  decide  just  at  present  about  the 
name.     But  I  forgot  all  about  yoor  being  hungry." 

"  I'm  not  very  hungry." 

"At  any  rate  you  haven't  had  anything  to  eat 
since  morning,  and  need  something.  I'll  go  down 
and  see  Mrs.  Wilson  about  it." 

Richard  Hunter  soon  explained  matters  to  Mrs. 
Wilson,  to  whom  he  offered  to  pay  an  extra  weekly 
Bum  for  Mark,  and  arranged  that  a  small  single  bed 
should  be  placed  in  one  corner  of  the  room  tempo- 
rarily in  which  the  match  boy  should  sleep.  He 
speedily  reappeared  with  a  bowl  of  broth,  a  cup 
of  tea,  and  some  dry  toast.  The  sight  of  these  caused 
the  match  boy's  eyes  to  brighten,  and  he  was  able 
to  do  very  good  justice  to  all. 

"Now,"  said  Richard  Hunter,  "I  will  call  in  a 
doctor,  and  find  out  what  is  the  matter  with  my 
little  ward." 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  Dr.  Pemberton,  a 
young   dispensary    physician,    whose    acquaintance 


148  MARK,    THE    MATCH    EOT  J 

Richard  had  casually  made,  called  at  his  request  and 
looked  at  the  patient. 

"He  is  not  seriously  sick,"  he  pronounced.  £  Ii 
is  chiefly  debility  that  troubles  him,  brought  on 
I  robably  by  exposure,  and  over-exertion  in  this  lan- 
guid spring  weather." 

"Then  you  don't  think  he  is  going  to  have  a 
fever?  "  said  Dick. 

"  No,  not  if  he  remains  under  your  care.  Had 
he  continued  in  the  street,  I  think  he  would  not  have 
escaped  one." 

"  What  shall  we  do  for  him  ?  " 

"  Rest  is  most  important  of  all.  That,  with  nour- 
ishing food  and  freedom  from  exposure,  will  soon 
bring  him  round  again." 

"He  shall  have  all  these." 

"  I  suppose  you  know  him,  as  you  take  so  much 
interest  in  him  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  saw  him  but  once  before  to-day,  but 
t  am  able  to  befriend  him,  and  he  has  no  other 
friends  r' 

"  There  are  not  many  young  men  who  would  take 
*11  this  trouble  about  a  poor  match  boy,"  said  the 
doctor. 


OR>    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  149 

"  It's  because  they  don't  koow  how  hard  it  is  to 
be  friendless  and  neglected,"  said  Dick.  "I've 
known  that  feeling,  and  it  makes  me  pity  those  who 
are  in  the  same  condition  I  once  was." 

"I  wish  there  were  more  like  you,  Mr.  Hunter," 
said  Dr.  Pemberton.  "  There  would  be  less  suffer- 
ing in  the  world.  As  to  our  little  patient  here,  I 
have  no  doubt  he  will  do  well,  and  soon  be  on  his 
legs  again." 

Indeed  Mark  was  already  looking  better  and  feel 
ing  better.  The  rest  which  he  had  obtained  during 
the  day,  and  the  refreshment  he  had  just  taken,  were 
precisely  what  he  needed.  He  soon  fell  asleep,  and 
Richard  and  Fosdick.  lighting  the  gas  lamp  on  the 
centre-table,  sat  down  to  their  evening  studies. 

In  a  few  days  Mark  was  decidedly  better,  but  it 
was  thought  best  that  he  should  still  keep  the  room. 
He  liked  it  very  well  in  the  evening  when  Dick  and 
Fosdick  were  at  home,  but  he  felt  rather  lonesome 
in  the  daytime.  Richard  Hunter  thought  of  this 
one  day,  and  said,  "  Can  you  read,  Mark?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  match  boy. 

"Who  taught  you?  Not  Mother  Watson, 
surely." 


150  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY, 

"  No,  she  couldn't  read  herself.  It  was  my 
mother  who  taught  me." 

"  I  think  I  must  get  you  two  or  three  books  of 
stories  to  read  while  we  are  away  in  the  day- 
time." 

"You  are  spending  too  much  money  for  me,  Mr 
Hunter." 

"  Remember  I  am  your  guardian,  and  it  is  my 
duty  to  take  care  of  you." 

The  next  morning  on  his  way  down  town,  Richard 
Hunter  stepped  into  a  retail  bookstore  on  Broadway. 
As  he  entered,  a  boy,  if  indeed  it  be  allowable  to 
apply  such  a  term  to  a  personage  so  consequential  in 
his  manners,  came  forward. 

"  What,  Roswell  Crawford,  are  you  here?  "  asked 
Richard  Hunter,  in  surprise. 

Roswell,  who  has  already  been  mentioned  in  this 
story,  and  who  figured  considerably  in  previous  vol- 
umes of  this  series,  answered  rather  stiffly  to  this 
salutation. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "I  am  here  for  a  short  time. 
[  came  in  to  oblige  Mr.  Baker." 

"You  were  always  very  obliging,  Roswell,"  said 
Richard,  good-humoredly. 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER7 S    WARD.  151 

Roswell  did  not  appear  to  appreciate  this  complin 
ment.     He  probably  thought  it  savored  of  irony. 

"  Do  you  want  to  buy  anything  this  morning?"  he 
said,  shortly. 

"Yes;  I  would  like  to  look  at  some  books  of  fairy 
stories." 

"  For  your  own  reading,  I  suppose,"  said  Roswell. 

"  I  may  read  them,  but  I  am  getting  them  for  my 
ward." 

"Is  he  a  boot-black  ?  "  sneered  Roswell,  who  knew 
all  about  Dick's  early  career. 

"No,"  said  Richard,  "he's  a  match  boy;  so  if 
you've  got  any  books  that  you  can  warrant  to  be 
just  the  thing  for  match  boys,  I  should  like  to  see 
them." 

"We  don't  have  many  customers  of  that  class," 
said  Roswell,  unpleasantly.  "  They  generally  go 
to  cheaper  establishments,  when  they  are  able  to 
read." 

"  Do  they  ?  "  said  Dick.  "  I'm  glad  you've  got 
into  a  place  where  you  only  meet  the  cream  of  soci- 
ety," and  Dick  glanced  significantly  at  a  red- nosed 
man  who  came  in  to  buy  a  couple  of  sheets  of  note- 
paper. 


152  MARK,    THE    MATCH    BOY ; 

Roswell  colored. 

"  There  are  some  exceptions,"  he  said,  and  glanced 
pointedly  at  Richard  Hunter  himself. 

"Well,"  said  Dick,  after  looking  over  a  collection 
of  juvenile  books,   "I'll  take  these  two." 

He  drew  out  his  pocket-book,  and  handed  Roswell 
a  ten-dollar  bill.  Roswell  changed  it  with  a  feeling 
of  jealousy  and  envy.  He  was  the  "son  of  a  gen- 
tleman," as  he  often  boasted,  but  he  never  had  a  ten- 
dollar  bill  in  his  pocket.  Indeed,  he  was  now  working 
for  six  dollars  a  week,  and  glad  to  get  that,  after 
having  been  out  of  a  situation  for  several  months. 

Just  then  Mr.  Gladden,  of  the  large  down-town 
firm  of  Gladden  &  Co.,  came  into  the  store,  and,  see- 
ing Richard,  saluted  him  cordially. 

"How  are  you  this  morning,  Mr.  Hunter?"  he 
said.     "  Are  you  on  your  way  down  town?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Richard. 

"  Come  with  me.  We  will  take  an  omnibus  to- 
gether ;  "  and  the  two  walked  out  of  the  store  in 
familiar  conversation. 

"  I  shouldn't  think  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Gladden 
would  notice  a  low  boot-black,"  said  Roswell,  bit- 
terly 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER.' S    WARD.  153 

The  rest  of  the  day  he  was  made  ur.happy  by  the 
thought  of  Dick's  prosperity,  and  » &  jwn  hard  fate, 
in  being  merely  a  clerk  in  a  booku//v  ^ith  a  salarj 
of  six  dollars  a  week. 


£M  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY ; 


CHAPTER  XV. 


MARK    GETS    A    PLACE. 


In  a  week  from  the  purchase  of  the  books,  Mark 
Jelt  that  he  was  fully  recovered.  He  never  had 
much  color,  but  the  unhealthy  pallor  had  left  his 
cheeks,  and  he  had  an  excellent  appetite. 

"Well,  Mark,  how  do  you  feel  to-night?  "  asked 
Richard,  on  his  return  from  the  store  one  evening. 

"I'm  all  right,  now,  Mr.  Hunter.  I  think  I  will 
go  to  work  to-morrow  morning." 

"What  sort  of  work?" 

"  Selling  matches." 

"  Do  you  like  to  sell  matches?  " 

"  I  like  it  better  than  selling  papers,  or  blacking 
boots." 

"  But  wouldn't  you  like  better  to  be  in  a  store?  " 

"I  couldn't  get  a  place,"  said  Mirk. 

"Why  not?" 

1  My  clothes  are  ragged,"  said  the  match  boy  with 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER  S    WARD.  155 

some  hesitation.  "  Besides  I  haven't  got  anybody 
to  refer  to." 

"  Can't  you  refer  to  your  guardian  ?  "  asked  Rich- 
aid  Hunter,  smiling. 

"  Do  you  think  I  had  better  try  to  get  a  place  in 
a  store,  Mr.  Hunter  ?  "  asked  Mark. 

"Yes,  I  think  it  would  be  much  better  for  you 
than  to  sell  matches  on  the  street.  You  are  not  a 
strong  boy,  and  the  exposure  is  not  good  for  you. 
As  to  your  clothes,  we'll  see  if  we  cannot  supply  you 
with  something  better  than  you  have  on." 

"  But,"  said  Mark,  "  I  want  to  pay  for  my  clothes 
myself.  I  have  got  ten  dollars  in  the  bank  at  the 
Newsboys'  Lodge." 

"  Very  well.  You  can  go  down  to-morrow  morn- 
ing and  get  it.  But  we  needn't  wait  for  that.  I 
will  go  and  get  you  some  clothes  before  I  go  to  busi- 
ness." 

In  the  morning  Richard  Hunter  went  out  with 
the  match  boy,  and  for  twenty  dollars  obtained 
for  him  a  very  neat  gray  suit,  besides  a  supply  of 
under-clothing.  Mark  put  them  on  at  once,  and  felt 
not  a  little  pleased  with  the  improvement  in  his  ap- 
pearance. 


156  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

"You  can  carry  your  old  clothes  to  Mr.  O'Con- 
nor," said  Richard.  "They  are  not  very  g*»od,  but 
they  are  better  than  none,  and  he  may  have  an  op- 
portunity of  giving  them  away." 

"  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  Mr.  Hunter," 
%aid  Mark,  gratefully.      "  Good-by." 

• '  Good-by  ?     What  makes  you  say  that  ?  ' ' 

"  Because  I  am  going  now  to  the  Newsboys' 
Lodge." 

"  Yes,  but  you  are  coming  back  again." 

"  But  I  think  I  had  better  go  there  to  live  now. 
It  will  be  much  cheaper,  and  I  ought  not  to  put  you 
to  so  much  expense." 

"  You're  a  good  boy,  Mark,  but  you  must  remem- 
ber that  I  am  your  guardian,  and  am  to  be  obeyed  as 
such.  You're  not  going  back  to  the  Lodge  to  live. 
I  have  arranged  to  have  you  stay  with  me  at  my 
boarding-place.  As  soon  as  you  have  got  a  place  you 
will  work  in  the  daytime,  and  every  Saturday  night 
you  will  bring  me  your  money.  In  the  evening  1 
shall  have  you  study  a  little,  for  I  don't  want  you  to 
grow  up  as  ignorant  as  I  was  at  your  age." 

"  Were  you  ignorant,  Mr.  Hunter?  "  asked  Mark, 
with  interest 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  157 

"  Yea,  I  was,"  said  Richard.  "  When  I  was  four 
teen,  I  couldn't  read  nor  write." 

"I  can  hardly  believe  that,  Mr.  Hunter,"  said 
Mark.     "  You're  such  a  fine  scholar." 

"  Am  I  ?  "  asked  Richard,  smiling,  jet  well  pleased 
with  the  compliment. 

"  Why,  you  can  read  French  as  fast  as  I  can  read 
English,  and  write  beautifully." 

"  Well,  I  had  to  work  hard  to  do  it,"  said  Richard 
Hunter.  "  But  I  feel  paid  for  all  the  time  I've 
spent  in  trying  to  improve  myself.  Sometimes  I've 
thought  I  should  like  to  spend  the  evening  at  some 
place  of  amusement  rather  than  in  study ;  but  if  I 
had,  there'd  be  nothing  to  show  for  it  now.  Take 
my  advice,  Mark,  and  study  all  you  can,  and  you'll 
grow  up  respectable  and  respected." 

"Now,"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  "1*11  tell  you 
what  you  may  do.  You  may  look  in  my  '  Herald ' 
every  morning,  and  whenever  you  see  a  boy  adver- 
tised for  you  can  call,  or  whenever,  in  going  along  the 
Btreet,  you  see  a  notice  '  Boy  wanted,'  you  may  call  in, 
and  sooner  or  later  you'll  get  something.  If  thej 
ask  for  references,  you  may  refer  to  Richard  Hunter 
book-keeper  for  Rockwell  &  Cooper." 


158  MARK,    THE    MATCH  BOY; 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Hunter,"  said  Mark.  "I  will 
do  so." 

On  parting  with  his  guardian  the  match  boy  went 
down  town  to  the  Lodging  House.  The  superin- 
tendent received  him  kindly. 

"  I  didn't  know  what  had  become  of  you,  Mark," 
he  said.  "  If  it  had  been  some  of  the  boys,  I  should 
have  been  afraid  they  had  got  into  a  scrape,  and  gone 
to  the  Island.     But  I  didn't  think  that  of  you." 

"  I  hope  you'll  never  hear  that  of  me,  Mr.  O'Con- 
nor," said  Mark. 

"I  hope  not.  I'm  always  sorry  to  hear  of  any 
boy's  going  astray.  But  you  seem  to  have  been 
doing  well  since  I  saw  you ;  "  and  the  superintendent 
glanced  at  Marks  new  clothes. 

"  I've  met  with  some  kind  friends,"  said  the  match 
boy.  "I  have  been  sick,  and  they  took  care  of 
me." 

"  And  now  you  have  come  back  to  the  Lodge." 

"  Yes,  but  not  to  stay.  I  came  for  the  money 
that  I  have  saved  up  ir.  the  bank.  It  is  going  fof 
these  clothes." 

- '  Very  well.  You  shall  have  it.  What  is  the 
name  of  the  friend  who  has  taken  care  of  you  ?  " 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER' S    WARD  159 

"  Richard  Hunter." 

"I  know  him,"  said  the  superintendent.  "He  u 
an  excellent  young  man.  You  could  not  be  in  bettei 
hands." 

On  leaving  the  Lod«;e  Mark  felt  a  desire  to  find 
his  old  ally,  Ben  Gibson,  who,  though  rather  a  rough 
character,  had  been  kind  to  him. 

Ben  was  not  difficult  to  find.  During  business 
hours  he  was  generally  posted  on  Nassau  Street, 
somewhere  between  Fulton  Street  and  Spruce 
Street. 

He  was  just  polishing  off  a  customer's  boots  when 
Mark  came  up,  and  touched  him  lightly  on  the 
shoulder.  Ben  looked  up,  but  did  not  at  first  rec- 
ognize the  match  boy  in  the  neatly  dressed  figure 
before  him. 

"  Shine  yer  boots !  "  he  asked,  in  a  professional 
tone. 

"  Why,  Ben,  don't  you  know  me?"  asked  Mark, 
laughing. 

"  My  eyes,  if  it  aint  Mark,  the  match  boy  !  "  ex- 
claimed Ben,  in  surprise.  "  Where'  ve  you  beet  all 
this  while,  Mark?" 

"  I've  been  sick,  Ben." 


160  MARK,    THE   MATCH  SOT; 

"  I'd  like  to  be  sick  too,  if  that's  the  way  you  got 
them  clo'es.     I  didn't  know  what  had  "come  of  you.' 

"  I  found  some  good  friends,"  said  Mark. 

"If  your  friends  have  got  any  more  good  clo'es 
they  want  to  get  rid  of," said  Ben,  "tell  'em  you 
know  a  chap  that  can  take  care  of  a  few.  Are  you 
in  the  match  business  now  ?  " 

"I  haven't  been  doing  anything  for  three  weeks," 
said  Mark. 

"  Goin'  to  sell  matches  again  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Sellin'  papers  ?  " 

"  No,  I'm  trying  to  find  a  place  in  a  store." 

"  I  don't  think  I'd  like  to  be  in  a  store,"  said  Ben, 
reflectively.  "I'm  afraid  my  delicate  constitution 
couldn't  stand  the  confinement.  Besides,  I'm  my 
own  boss  now,  and  don't  have  nobody  to  order  me 
round." 

"  But  you  don't  expect  to  black  boots  all  your  life, 
Ben,  do  you?" 

"I  dunno,"  said  Ben.  "Maybe  when  I'm  mar* 
ried,  I'll  choose  some  other  business.  It  would  be 
rather  hard  to  support  a  family  at  five  cents  a  shine 
Are  you  comin'  to  the  Lodge  to-night?  " 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  J  61 

"  No,"  said  Mark,  "  I'm  boarding  up  at  St.  Mark's 
Place." 

"  Mother  Watson  hasn't  opened  a  fashionable 
boardin'-house  up  there,  has  she  ?  " 

"  I  guess  not,"  said  Mark,  smiling.  "I  can't  think 
what  has  become  of  her.  I  haven't  seen  her  since 
the  day  she  tried  to  carry  me  off." 

"  I've  heard  of  her,"  said  Ben.  "  She's  stoppin' 
with  some  friends  at  the  Island.  They  won't  let  her 
come  away  on  account  of  likin'  her  company  so 
much." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  never  see  her  again,"  said  Mark, 
with  a  shudder.  "  She  is  a  wicked  old  woman.  But 
I  must  be  going,  Ben." 

"I  s'pose  you'll  come  and  see  a  feller  now  and 
then." 

"  Yes,  Ben,  when  I  get  time.  But  I  hope  to  get 
a  place  soon." 

Mark  walked  leisurely  up  Broadway.  Having 
been  confined  to  the  house  for  three  weeks,  he  en- 
joyed the  excitement  of  being  out  in  the  street  once 
more.  The  shop  windows  looked  brighter  and  gayer 
than  before,  and  the  little  match  boy  felt  that  the 
world  was  a  very  pleasant  place  after  all. 
11 


J 62  MJRK,    THE   MATCH  BOY ; 

He  had  passed  Eighth  Street  before  he  was  fairly 
aware  of  the  distance  he  had  traversed.  He  found 
himself  looking  into  the  window  of  a  bookstore. 
While  examining  the  articles  in  the  window  his  eye 
suddenly  caught  the  notice  pasted  in  the  middle  of 
the  glass  on  a  piece  of  white  paper :  — 

"boy  wanted." 

"  Perhaps  they'll  take  me,"  thought  Mark,  sudden- 
ly.    "  At  any  rate  I'll  go  in  and  see." 

Accordingly  he  entered  the  store,  and  looked  about 
him  a  little  undecidedly. 

*'  Well,  sonny,  what  do  you  want?  "  asked  a  clerk. 

"I  see  that  you  want  a  boy,"  said  Mark. 

"  Yes.     Do  you  want  a  place  ?  " 

"  I  am  trying  to  get  one." 

"  Well,  go  and  see  that  gentleman  about  it." 

He  pointed  to  a  gentleman  who  was  seated  at  a 
desk  in  the  corner  of  the  store. 

"  Please,  sir,  do  you  want  a  boy  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  gentleman.  "  How  old  are 
pu?" 

"  Ten  years  old." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  1G3 

"  You  are  rather  young.  Have  you  been  in  any 
place  before?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Do  you  know  your  way  about  the  city  pretty 
well?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

11 1  want  a  boy  to  deliver  papers  and  magazines, 
and  carry  small  parcels  of  books.  Do  you  think  you 
could  do  that?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Without  stopping  to  play  on  the  way  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  have  just  discharged  one  boy,  because  he  was 
gone  an  hour  and  a  half  on  an  errand  to  Twentieth 
Street.  You  are  the  first  boy  that  has  answered 
my  advertisement.  I'll  try  you  on  a  salary  of  three 
dollars  a  week,  if  you  can  go  to  work  at  once. 
What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Mark  Manton." 

"  Very  well,  Mark.  Go  to  Mr.  Jones,  behind 
the  counter  there,  and  he  will  give  you  a  parcel  to 
carry  to  West  Twenty-First  Street." 

"  I'm  in  luck,"  thought  Mark.  "  I  iidn't  expect 
to  get  a  place  so  easily." 


UA  MARK,    THE    MATCH   BOTt 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

mark's  first  impressions. 

Probably  my  readers  already  understand  that 
tLe  bookstore  in  which  Mark  has  secured  a  place  is 
the  same  in  which  Roswell  Crawford  is  employed.  This 
circumstance,  if  Mark  had  only  known  it,  was  likely 
to  make  his  position  considerably  less  desirable  than 
it  would  otherwise  have  been.  Mr.  Baker,  the  proprie- 
tor of  the  store,  was  very  considerate  in  his  treatment 
of  those  in  his  employ,  and  Mr.  Jones,  his  chief  clerk, 
was  good-natured  and  pleasant.  But  Roswell  was 
very  apt  to  be  insolent  and  disagreeable  to  those 
who  were,  or  whom  he  considered  to  be,  in  an  infe- 
rior position  to  himself,  while  his  lofty  ideas  of  his 
own  dignity  and  social  position  as  the  "spn  of  a 
gentleman,"  made  him  not  very  desirable  as  a  clerk. 
Still  he  had  learned  something  from  his  bad  luck 
thus  far.  He  had  been  so  long  in  getting  his  pres> 
ent  place,  that  he  felt  it  prudent  to  sacrifice  his  pride 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER* S    WARL.  1G5 

i»»  some  extent  for  the  sake  of  retaining  it.  But  if 
he  could  neglect  his  duties  without  attracting  atten- 
tion, he  resolved  to  do  it,  feeling  that  six  dollars  waa 
a  beggarly  salary  for  a  young  gentleman  of  hia 
position  and  capacity.  It  was  unfortunate  for  him, 
and  a  source  of  considerable  annoyance,  that  ho 
could  get  no  one  except  his  mother  to  assent  to  hia 
own  estimate  of  his  abilities.  Even  his  Cousin 
Gilbert,  who  had  been  Rockwell  &  Cooper's  book- 
keeper before  Richard  Hunter  succeeded  to  the  posi- 
tion, did  not  conceal  his  poor  opinion  of  Roswell ; 
but  this  the  latter  attributed  to  prejudice,  being 
persuaded  in  his  own  mind  that  his  cousin  was 
somewhat  inclined  to  be  envious  of  his  superior 
abilities. 

At  the  time  that  Mark  was  so  suddenly  engaged 
by  Mr.  Baker,  Roswell  had  gone  out  to  dinner. 
When  he  returned,  Mark  had  gone  out  with  the 
parcel  to  West  Twenty-first  Street.  So  they  missed 
each  other  just  at  first. 

"  Well,  Crawford,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  as  Roswell 
re-entered  the  store,  ' '  Mr.  Baker  has  engaged  a  new 
boy." 

*:  Has  he  ?     What  sort  of  a  fellow  is  he  ? :' 


166  MARK,    THE   MATCH    BOY / 

"  A  little  fellow.  He  doesn't  look  as  if  be  was 
more  than  ten  years  old." 

"  Where  is  he?" 

"  Mr.  Baker  sent  him  on  an  errand  to  Twenty- 
first  Street." 

"Humph!"  said  Roswell,  a  little  discontented, 
"  I  was  going  to  recommend  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  There  may  be  a  chance  yet.  This  boy  may  not 
Buit." 

In  about  five  minutes  Mr.  Baker  and  Mr.  Jones 
both  went  out  to  dinner.  It  was  the  middle  of  the 
day,  when  there  is  very  little  business,  and  it  would 
not  be  difficult  for  Roswell  to  attend  to  any  custom- 
ers who  might  call. 

As  soon  as  he  was  left  alone,  Roswell  got  an  in- 
teresting book  from  the  shelves,  and,  sitting  down 
in  his  employer's  chair,  began  to  read,  though  this 
was  against  the  rules  in  business  hours.  To  see  the 
pomj>ous  air  with  which  Roswell  threw  himself  back 
in  his  chair,  it  might  have  been  supposed  that  he 
was  the  proprietor  of  the  establishment,  though  I 
believe  it  is  true,  as  a  general  rule,  that  employers 
are  not  in  the  habit  of  putting  on  so  many  airs,  un- 
less the  position  is  a  new  one,  and  they  have  not  yet 


OH.    RWnARD    HUNTElfS    WARD.  167 

£i>t  over  the  new  feeling  of  importance  which  it  ig 
apt  to  inspire  at  first. 

While  Roswell  was  thus  engaged  Mark  returnel 
from  his  errand. 

lie  looked  about  him  in  some  uncertainty  oa 
entering  the  store,  not  seeing  either  Mr.  Baker  or 
the  chief  clerk. 

"  Come  here,"  said  Roswell,  in  a  tone  of  au- 
thority. 

Mark  walked  up  to  the  desk. 

"So  you  are  the  new  boy?"  said  Roswell, 
after  a  close  scrutiny. 

"  Yes." 

"It  would  be  a  little  more  polite  to  say  'Yet 
sir.'  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  What  is  your  age  ?  " 

"  Ten  years." 

{  Humph  !  You  are  rather  young.  If  I  had 
been  consulted  I  should  have  said  '  Get  a  boy  of 
twelve  years  old.'  " 

"  I  hope  I  shall  suit,"  said  Mark. 

1  I  hope  so,''  said  Roswell,  patronizingly.  "Yon 
will  find  us  very  easy  to  get  along  with  if  you  do 


168  MARK,    THE    MATCH  BOY / 

youi  duty.  We  were  obliged  to  send  away  a  boy 
this  morning  because  he  played  instead  of  going  on 
his  errands  at  once." 

Mark  could  not  help  wondering  what  was  Ros- 
cell's  position  in  the  establishment.  He  talked  aa 
if  he  were  one  of  the  proprietors ;  but  his  youthful 
appearance  made  it  difficult  to  suppose  that. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  continued  Roswell. 

"Mark  Manton." 

"  Have  you  been  in  any  place  before?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Do  you  live  with  your  parents?  " 

"  My  parents  are  dead." 

"  Then  whom  do  you  live  with  ?  " 

"  With  my  guardian." 

"  So  you  have  a  guardian?  "  said  Roswell,  &  lit 
tie  surprised.      "  What  is  his  name  ?" 

"Mr.  Hunter." 

"Hunter!"  repeated  Roswell,  hastily.  "  Whal 
is  his  first  name  ?  " 

"  Richard  I  believe." 

"  Dick  Hunter  !  "  exclaimed  Roswell,  scornfully 
11  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  he  has  charge  of 
you?" 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER* S    WARD.  169 

"Yea,"  said  Mark,  firmly,  for  he  perceived  the 
tone  in  which  his  friend  was  referred  to,  and  resent- 
ed it.  Moreover  the  new  expression  which  came 
over  Roswell's  face  brought  back  to  his  recollection 
the  evening  when,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he 
had  begged  in  Fulton  Market,  and  been  scornfully 
repulsed  by  Roswell  and  his  mother.  Roswell's  face 
had  at  first  seemed  familiar  to  him,  but  it  was  only 
now  that  he  recognized  him.  Roswell,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  not  likely  to  identify  the  neatly  dressed 
boy  before  him  with  the  shivering  little  beggar  of 
the  market.  But  it  recurred  to  him  all  at  once 
that  Dick  had  referred  to  his  ward  as  a  match 
boy. 

"  You  were  a  match  boy?  "  he  said,  in  the  man- 
ner of  one  making  a  grave  accusation. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  keep  on  selling  matches, 
and  not  try  to  get  a  place  in  a  respectable  store?  " 

"  Because  Mr.  Hunter  thought  it  better  for  me 
to  go  into  a  store." 

"  Mr.  Hunter !  Perhaps  you  don't  know  that 
youi  guardian,  as  you  call  him,  used  to  be  a  boot- 
black." 


1 70  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

"Yes,  he  told  me  so." 
~  "  They  called  him   '  Ragged  Dick '  then,"  sand 
Roswell,  turning  up  his  nose.     "  He  couldn't  read 
or  write,  I  believe." 

"He's  a  good  scholar  now,"  said  Mark. 

"  Humph  !  I  suppose  he  told  you  so.  But  you 
mustn't  believe  all  he  tells  you." 

"He  wouldn't  tell  anything  but  the  truth,"  said 
Mark,  who  was  bolder  in  behalf  of  his  friend  than  he 
would  have  been  for  himself. 

"So  he  did  tell  you  he  was  a  good  scholar?  I 
thought  so." 

"No,  he  told  me  nothing  about  it;  but  since  I 
have  lived  with  him  I've  heard  him  read  French  as 
well  as  English." 

'  Perhaps  that  isn't  saying  much,"  said  Roswell, 
with  a  sneer.     "Can  you  read  yourself?  " 

"Yes." 

"That  is  more  than  I  expected.  What  induced 
Mr.  Baker  to  take  a  boy  from  the  street  is  more  than 
I  can  tell." 

"  I  suppose  I  can  run  errands  just  as  well,  if  I 
was  rnce  a  match  boy,"  said  Mark,  who  did  not 
fency  the  tone  which  Roswell  assumed  towards  him, 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTlsR'S    WARD.  171 

and  began  to  doubt  whether  he  was  a  person  of  as 
much  importance  as  he  at  first  supposed. 

"We  shall  see,"  said  Roswell,  loftily.  "But 
there's  one  thing  I'll  advise  you,  young  man,  and 
that  is,  to  treat  me  with  proper  respect.  You'll  find 
it  best  to  keep  friends  with  me.  I  can  get  you 
turned  away  any  time." 

Mark  hardly  knew  whether  to  believe  this  or  not. 
He  already  began  to  suspect  that  Roswell  was  some- 
thing of  a  humbug,  and  though  it  was  not  in  hia 
nature  to  form  a  causeless  dislike,  he  certainly  did 
not  feel  disposed  to  like  Roswell.  He  did  not  care 
§o  much  for  any  slighting  remarks  upon  himself,  as 
for  the  scorn  with  which  Roswell  saw  fit  to  speak  of 
his  friend,  Richard  Hunter,  who  by  his  good  offices 
had  won  the  little  boy's  lasting  gratitude.  Mark 
did  not  reply  to  the  threat  contained  in  these  last 
words  of  Roswell. 

"  Is  there  anything  for  me  to  do?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  you  may  dust  off  those  books  on  the  coun- 
ter.    There's  the  duster  hanging  up." 

This  was  really  Roswell's  business,  and  he  ought 
to  have  been  at  work  in  this  way  instead  of  reading; 
but  it  was  characteristic  of  him  to  shift  his  duties 


172  MAllK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

upon  others.  He  was  not  aware  of  how  much  timf 
had  passed,  and  supposed  that  Mark  would  be 
through  before  Mr.  Barker  returned.  But  tbai 
gentleman  came  in  while  Roswell  was  busily  engaged 
in  reading. 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  do  your  work,  Roswell  ?  " 
asked  his  employer. 

Roswell  jumped  to  his  feet  in  some  confusion. 

"  I  thought  I  had  better  set  the  new  boy  to  work," 
he  said. 

"  Dusting  the  books  is  your  work,  not  his." 

"  He  was  doing  nothing,  sir." 

"  He  will  have  plenty  to  do  in  carrying  out  par- 
cels. Besides,  I  don't  know  that  it  is  any  worse  for 
him  to  be  idle  than  you.  You  were  reading  also, 
which  you  know  is  against  the  rules  of  the  store." 

Roswell  made  no  reply,  but  it  hurt  his  pride  con- 
siderably to  be  censured  thus  in  presence  of  Mark, 
to  whom  he  had  spoken  with  such  an  assumption  of 
pcwer  and  patronage. 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  store  of  my  own,"  he  thought, 
discontentedly.  "Then  I  could  do  as  I  pleased 
without  having  anybody  to  interfere  with  me." 

But  Roswell  did  not  understand,  and  there  are 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  173 

plenty  of  boys  in  the  same  state  of  ignorance,  that 
those  who  fill  subordinate  positions  acceptably  are 
most  likely  to  rise  to  stations  where  they  will  them- 
selves have  control  over  others. 

"I  suppose  you  have  not  been  to  dinner,"  saivl 
Mr.  Baker,  turning  to  Mark. 

"No,  sir." 

"  You  board  in  St.  Mark's  Place,  I  think  you 
said?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  here  is  a  parcel  to  go  to  East  Ninth 
Street.  You  may  call  and  leave  that  at  the  address 
marked  upon  it,  and  may  stay  out  long  enough  for 
dinner.  But  don't  begone  more  than  an  hour  in 
all." 

"No,  sir." 

"  I  am  glad  that  boy  isn't  my  employer,"  thought 
Mark,  referring  of  course  to  Roswell  Crawford,  who, 
bj  the  way,  would  have  been  indignant  at  such 
an  appellation.  "  I  like  Mr.  Baker  a  great  deal 
better." 

Mark  was  punctual  to  his  appointment,  and  in  a 
little  less  than  an  hour  reported  himself  at  the  store 
again  for  duty. 


174  MARK*    THE   MATCH   HOT; 


CHAPTER     XVII. 

BAD    ADVICE. 

Roswell  pursued  his  way  home  with  a  general 
sense  of  discontent.  Why  should  he  be  so  much 
worse  off  than  Richard  Hunter,  who  had  only  been 
a  ragged  boot-black  three  years  before  ?  The  whole 
world  seemed  to  be  in  a  conspiracy  to  advance 
Richard,  and  to  keep  him  down.  To  think  he 
should  be  only  earning  six  dollars  a  week,  while 
Dick,  whom  he  considered  so  far  beneath  him,  was 
receiving  twenty,  was  really  outrageous.  And  now 
he  had  pushed  a  low  dependent  of  his  into  Baker's 
stoie  where  Roswell  was  obliged  to  associate  witb 
him ! 

Certainly  Roswell's  grievances  were  numerous. 
But  there  was  one  thing  he  did  not  understand,  that 
the  greatest  obstacle  to  his  advancement  was  himself. 
If  he  had  entered  a'vy  situation  with  the  determina- 
tion to    make  his  services  valuable,   and  discharge 


on,  nicriARD  hunter's  ward.  175 

his  duties,  whatever  they  might  be,  with  conscien- 
tious fidelity,  he  would  have  found  his  relations  with 
his  employer  much  more'  agreeable  and  satisfactory. 

Mrs.  Crawford  still  kept  the  house  in  Clinton 
Place,  letting  nearly  all  the  rooms  to  lodgers.  In 
this  way  she  succeeded  in  making  both  ends  meet 
though  with  considerable  difficulty,  so  that  she  had 
not  the  means  to  supply  Roswe1!  with  the  spending 
money  he  desired.  Her  nephew,  James  Gilbert, 
Richard  Huntley's  predecessor  as  book-keeper,  still 
boarded  with  her.  It  will  be  remembered  by  tha 
readers  of  "  Fame  and  Fortune,"  that  this  Gilbert, 
on  being  questioned  by  Mr.  Rockwell  as  to  his  share 
in  the  plot  against  Dick,  had  angrily  resigned  hia 
position,  thinking,  probably,  that  he  should  lose  it  at 
any  rate. 

It  so  happened  that  business  was  generally  do 
pressed  at  this  time,  and  it  was  three  months  before 
lie  succeeded  in  obtaining  another  place,  and  then 
he  was  compelled  to  work  for  eight  hundred  dollars, 
or  two  hundred  less  than  he  had  formerly  received. 
This  was  a  great  disappointment  to  him,  and  did  not 
help  his  temper  much,  which  had  never  been  very 
sweet.     He    felt    quite   exasperated    against  Dick, 


176  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY ; 

whom,  very  much  against  his  wishes,  he  had  *een 
the  means  of  promoting  to  his  own  place.  Indeed, 
on  this  point,  he  sympathized  heartily  with  Roswell, 
whose  dislike  to  Richard  Hunter  has  already  been 
shown. 

"Well,  mother,"  said  Roswell,  as  he  entered 
Mis.  Crawford's  presence,  "  I'm  getting  tired  of 
Baker's  store." 

"Don't  say  so,  Roswell,"  said  his  mother,  in 
alarm.  "  Remember  how  long  it  took  you  to  get 
the  place." 

"I  have  to  work  like  a  dog  for  six  dollars  a 
week,"  said  Roswell. 

"Yes,"  said  his  cousin,  with  a  sneer,  "that's 
precisely  the  way  you  work.  Dogs  spend  their 
time  running  round  the  street  doing  nothing." 

"  Well,  I  have  to  work  hard  enough,"  said 
Roswell,  "  but  I  wouldn't  mind  that  so  much,  if  I 
didn't  have  to  associate  with  low  match  boys." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Roswell?"  asked  his 
mother,  who  did  not  understand  the  allusion. 

"  Baker  hired  a  new  boy  to-day,  and  wh)  do  you 
think  he  turns  out  to  be  ?  " 

"  Not  that  boy,  Ragged  Dick  ?  " 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  177 

"  No,  you  don't  think  he  would  give  up  Cousin 
James'  place,  where  he  gets  a  thousand  dollars  a 
/ear,  to  go  into  Baker's  as  boy  ?  " 

"  Who  was  it,  then  ?  " 

"  He  used  to  be  a  ragged  match  boy  about  the 
streets  Dick  Hunter  picked  him  up  somewhere, 
and  got  him  a  situation  in  our  store,  on  purpose  to 
spite  me,  I  expect." 

As  the  reader  is  aware,  Roswell  was  mistaken  in 
his  supposition,  as  Mark  obtained  the  place  on  hi* 
own  responsibility. 

"  The  boot-black  seems  to  be  putting  on  airs,"  said 
Mrs.  Crawford. 

uYes,  he  pretends  to  be  the  guardian  of  this 
match  boy." 

"  What's  the  boy's  name  ?  " 

u  Mark  Manton." 

"If  I  were  Mr.  Baker,"  said  Mrs.  Crawford,  "I 
BQOuld  be  afraid  to  take  a  street  boy  into  my  employ. 
Vory  likely  he  isn't  honest." 

"  I  wish  he  would  steal  something,"  said  Roswell, 
not  very  charitably.  "  Then  we  could  get  rid  of 
him,  and  the  boot-black  would  be  pretty  well  morti- 
fied about  it." 

12 


178  MARK,    THE   M^TCH  BOY} 

"He'll  be  found  out  sooner  or  later,"  said  Mrs 
Crawford.  "  You  may  depend  on  that.  You'd 
better  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  him,  Roswell.  If 
you  catch  him  in  stealing,  it  will  help  you  with  Mr. 
Biker,  or  ought  to." 

This  would  have  comforted  Roswell  more,  but  thai 
he  was  privately  of  opinion  that  Mark  was  honest, 
and  would  not  be  likely  to  give  him  any  chance  of 
detecting  him  in  stealing.  Still,  by  a  little  manage 
ment  on  his  part,  he  might  cause  him  to  fall  under 
suspicion.  It  would  of  course  be  miserably  mean  on 
his  part  to  implicate  a  little  boy  in  a  false  charge; 
but  Rosweli  was  a  mean  boy,  and  he  was  not  scrupu- 
lous where  his  dislike  was  concerned.  He  privately 
decided  to  think  over  this  new  plan  for  getting  Mark 
into  trouble. 

"  Isn't  dinner  ready,  mother?"  he  asked,  rather 
;x  patiently. 

"  It  will  be  in  about  ten  minutes." 

"  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  bear." 

"  You  can  always  do  your  part  at  the  table,"  said 
ois  cousin  unpleasantly. 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  shouldn't.  I  have  to  work 
hard  enough." 


On,    IilCMARD   HONTEU&    WAKD.  179 

*'  You  are  always  talking  about  your  hard  work. 
My  belief  is  that  you  don't  earn  your  wages." 

'•  I  should  think  it  was  a  pity  if  I  didn't  earn  ail 
dollars  a  week,"  said  Roswell. 

"  Come,  James,  you're  always  hard  on  Roswell," 
said  Mrs.  Crawford.  "  I  am  sure  he  has  hard  timea 
enough  without  his  own  relations  turning  against 
him." 

James  Gilbert  did  not  reply.  He  was  naturally 
of  a  sarcastic  turn,  and,  seeing  Roswell's  faults,  was 
not  inclined  to  spare  them.  He  might  have  pointed 
them  out,  however,  in  a  kindly  manner,  and  then  his 
young  cousin  might  possibly  been  benefited ;  but 
Gilbert  felt  very  little  interest  in  Roswell. 

Immediately  after  dinner  Roswell  took  up  his  cap. 
His  mother  observed  this,  and  inquired,  "  Where 
are  you  going,  Roswell  ?  " 

"  I'm  going  out  to  walk." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  with  your  cousin  ? ' 

James  Gilbert  had  also  taken  his  hat. 

"  He  don't  want  to  be  bothered  with  me,"  said 
Roswell,  and  this  statement  Gilbert  did  not  take  the 
trouble  to  contradict. 

"  Why  can't  you  stay  in  and  read  ?  " 


180  MARK,    THIS   MATCH    BOY; 

"I  haven't  got  anything  to  read.  Besides  I've 
been  cooped  up  in  the  store  all  day,  and  I  want  to 
breathe  a  little  fresh  a  r." 

There  was  reason  in  this,  and  his  mother  did  not 
gainsay  it,  but  still  she  felt  that  it  was  not  quite  safe 
for  a  boy  to  spend  his  evenings  out  in  a  large  city, 
without  any  one  to  look  after  him. 

Roswell  crossed  Broadway,  and,  proceeding  down 
Eighth  Street,  met  a  boy  of  about  his  own  age  in 
front  of  the  Cooper  Institute. 

"How  long  have  you  been  waiting,  Ralph?"  he 
asked. 

"  Not  long.     I  only  just  came  up." 

"  I  couldn't  get  away  as  soon  as  I  expected.  Din- 
ner was  rather  late." 

"Have  a  cigar,  Roswell?  "  asked  Ralph. 

"  Yes,"  said  Roswell,  "  I  don't  mind." 

"  You'll  find  these  cigars  pretty  good.  I  paid  ten 
cents  apiece." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  afford  it,"  said  Roswell 
•  Your  cigars  must  cost  you  considerable." 

"I  don't  always  bay  ten-centers.  Generally  1 
pay  only  five  cents." 

1  Well,  that  mounts  up  when  you  smoke  three  oi 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  181 

four  in  a  day.  Let  me  see,  what  wages  do  you 
get?'* 

"  Seven  dollars  a  week." 

"  That's  only  a  dollar  more  than  I  get,"  said 
Itoswell. 

"  I  know  one  thing,  it's  miserably  small,"  said 
Ralph.      "  We  ought  to  get  twice  what  we  do.1' 

"These  shop-keepers  are  awfully  mean,"  said 
Roswell,  beginning  to  puff  away  at  his  cigar 

"  That's  so." 

"  But  still  you  always  seem  to  have  plenty  of 
money.  That's  what  puzzles  me,"  said  Roswell. 
"  I'm  always  pinched.  I  have  to  pay  my  mother 
all  my  wages  but  a  dollar  a  week.  And  what's  a 
dollar?"  he  repeated,  scornfully. 

"  Well,"  said  Ralph,  "  my  board  costs  me  all  but 
a  dollar.     So  we  are  about  even  there." 

"  Do  you  pay  your  board  out  of  your  earnings  ? ' 

"  I  have  to.  My  governor  won't  foot  the  bills,  sc 
I  have  to." 

"  Still  you  seem  to  have  plenty  of  money,"  per- 
sisted Roswell. 

"Yes,  I  look  out  for  that,"  said  Ralph  Graham, 
significantly. 


282  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

"But  I  don't  see  how  you  manage.  I  might  look 
out  all  day,  and  I  wouldn't  be  any  the  better  off." 

"Perhaps  you  don't  go  the  right  way  to  work," 
said  his  companion,  taking  the  cigar  from  his  mouth, 
and  knocking  off  the  ashes. 

'  Then  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  the  right  way." 

"  Why,  the  fact  is,"  said  Ralph,  slowly,  "  I  make 
my  employer  pay  me  higher  wages  than  he  thinka 
he  does." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  do  that,"  said  Roswell, 
who  didn't  yet  understand. 

Ralph  took  the  cigar,  now  nearly  smoked  out, 
from  his  mouth,  and  threw  it  on  the  pavement.  Ho 
bent  towards  Roswell,  and  whispered  something  in 
his  ear.     Roswell  started  and  turned  pale. 

"  But,"  he  said,  "that's  dishonest." 

"Hush!"  said  Ralph,  "don't  speak  so  loud. 
Oughtn't  employers  to  pay  fair  wages, — tell  me 
that?" 

"Certainly." 

'*  But  if  they  don't  and  won't,  what  then  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Well,  I  do.  We  must  help  ourselves,  that  if 
all." 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  183 

"  But,"  said  Roswell,  "  what  would  be  thought 
of  you  if  it  were  found  out  ?  " 

"There's  plenty  of  clerks  that  do  it.  Bless  you, 
it't,  expected.  I  heard  a  man  say  once  that  he  ex- 
pected to  lose  about  so  much  by  his  clerks." 

"  But  I  think  it  would  be  better  to  pay  good 
wv^es." 

•'  So  do  I,  only  you  see  they  won't  do  it." 

'l  How  much  do  you  —  do  you  make  outside  of 
yo^r  salary  ?  ' '  asked  Roswell. 

"  From  three  to  five  dollars  a  week." 

"  I  should  think  they'd  find  you  out." 

"  I  don't  let  them.  I'm  pretty  careful.  Well, 
what  shall  we  do  this  evening  ?  There's  a  pretty 
good  play  at  Niblo's.     Suppose  we  go  there." 

"I   haven't   got  money  enough,"  said  Roswell. 

"  Well,  I'll  pay  for  both  to-night.  You  can  pay 
another  time." 

"All  right!"  said  Roswell,  though  he  did  no* 
know  when  he  should  have  money  enough  to  return 
the  favor.  They  crossed  to  Broadway,  and  walked 
leisurely  to  Niblo's  Garden.  The  performance  last- 
ed till  late,  and  it  was  after  eleven  when  Roswel1 
Crawford  got  into  bed. 


184  MAJiK,    THE   MATCH  BO? £ 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE    FIRST   STEP. 

To  <Io  Roswell  Crawford  justice,  the  idea  of  taking 
money  from  his  employer  had  never  occurred  to  him 
until  the  day  when  it  was  suggested  to  him  by  Ralph 
Graham.  The  suggestion  came  to  him  at  an  unfor- 
tunate time.  He  had  always  felt  with  a  sense  of 
bitter  injustice  that  his  services  were  poorly  compen- 
sated, and  that  his  employer  was  making  money  out 
of  him.  Yet  he  knew  very  well  that  there  was  no 
chance  of  an  advance.  Besides,  he  really  felt  the 
need  of  more  money  to  keep  up  appearances  equal  to 
Ralph  Graham,  and  some  other  not  very  creditable 
acquaintances  that  he  had  managed  to  pick  up.  So 
Roswell  allowed  Ralph's  suggestion  to  recur  to  his 
mind  with  dangerous  frequency.  He  was  getting 
familiar  with  what  had  at  first  startled  and  shocked 
him. 

But  it  was  not  at  once  that  he  brought  his  mind 


OR,    RICHARD    IIUNTER'S    WARD.  185 

to  the  point.  He  was  not  possessed  of  much  courage, 
and  could  not  help  fearing  that  he  would  get  himself 
into  a  scrape.  It  needed  a  little  more  urging  on  the 
part  of  Ralph. 

"  Well,  Roswell,"  said  Ralph,  a  few  evenings  after 
the  conversation  recorded  in  the  last  chapter,  "  when 
are  you  going  to  take  me  to  the  theatre?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  I  was  going  to  take  you  at  all," 
said  Roswell. 

"  Come,  there's  no  use  in  crawling  off  that  way. 
Didn't  I  take  you  to  Niblo's  last  week?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  didn't  you  promise  to  take  me  some  night 
in  return?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  do  it  well  enough,"  said  Roswell 
"but  I  never  have  any  money." 

"You  might  have  some  if  you  chose." 

"  The  way  you  mentioned  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"I  don't  like  to  try  it." 

"  Then  you  are  foolish.  It's  what  half  the  clerKs 
do      They  have  to." 

"  Do  you  think  many  do  it  ?  "  said  Roswell,  irreso- 
lutely. 


186 


MARK,    THE    MATCH   LOY ,* 


"To  be  sure  they  do,"  said  Ralph,  confidently 

"  But  I  am  sure  it  would  be  found  out." 

"Not  if  you're  careful." 

"  I  shouldn't  know  how  to  go  about  it." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you.  You're  in  the  store  alone 
Hjme  of  the  time,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  when  Mr.  Baker  and  Mr.  Jones  are  gone  to 
dinner." 

"  Where  is  the  money  kept  ?  " 

"  There  are  two  drawers.  The  one  that  has 
the  most  money  in  it  is  kept  locked,  and  Mr. 
Baker  carries  away  the  key  with  him.  He  leaves  a 
few  dollars  in  another  drawer,  but  nothing  could  be 
taken  from  that  drawer  without  being  missed." 

"  Does  he  keep  much  money  in  the  first  drawer  ?  " 

"I  expect  so." 

"  Then,"  said  Ralph,  promptly,  "you  must  man- 
age to  get  into  that." 

"But  how  am  I  to  do  it?"  asked  Roswell. 
"  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  it  was  kept  locked,  and  that 
Mr.  Baker  took  the  key  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say  you  are  very  smart,  Roswell,"  said 
Ralph,  a  little  contemptuously. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  mean,  then." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  187 

"  What  is  easier  than  to  get  a  key  made  that  will 
fit  the  drawer  ?     All  you'll  have  to  do.  is  to  take  an 
impression  of  the  lock  with  sealing-wax,  and  carry  i 
to  a  locksmith.     He'll  make  you  a  key  for  two  shil- 
lings." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Roswell,  undecidedly.  "I 
don't  quite  like  to  do  it." 

"  Do  just  as  you  please,"  said  Ralph  ;  "  only  if  I 
carry  you  to  the  theatre  I  expect  you  to  return  the 
compliment." 

"Well,  I'll  think  of  it,"  said  Roswell. 

"  There  is  another  way  you  can  do,"  suggested 
Ralph,  who  was  full  of  evil  suggestions,  and  was 
perhaps  the  most  dangerous  counsellor  that  Roswell 
could  have  had  at  this  time. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  If  you  make  any  sales  while  you  are  alone  you 
might  forget  to  put  the  money  into  the  drawer." 

"  Yes,  I  might  do  that." 

' 4  And  ten  to  one  Baker  would  never  suspect.  Of 
course  he  doesn't  know  every  book  he  has  in  his 
store  or  the  exact  amount  of  stationery  he  keeps  on 
hand." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not." 


138  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY', 

"You  might  begin  that  way.  There  couldn't  be 
any  danger  of  detection." 

This  suggestion  struck  Roswell  more  favorably  than 
the  first,  as  it  seemed  safer.  Without  giving  any 
leciled  answer,  he  suffered  the  thought  to  sink  into 
lis  mind,  and  occupy  his  thoughts. 

The  next  day  when  about  the  middle  of  the  day 
Roswell  found  himself  alone,  a  customer  came  in  and 
bought  a  package  of  envelopes,  paying  twenty-five 
cents. 

With  a  half-guilty  feeling  Roswell  put  this  sum 
into  his  pocket. 

"  Mr.  Baker  will  never  miss  a  package  of  enve- 
lopes," he  thought. 

He  sold  two  or  three  other  articles,  but  the  money 
received  for  these  he  put  into  the  drawer.  He  did 
not  dare  to  take  too  much  at  first.  Indeed,  he  took 
a  little  credit  to  himself,  so  strangely  had  his  ideas 
of  honesty  got  warped,  for  not  taking  more  when  he 
might  have  done  so  as  well  as  not. 

Mr.  Baker  returned,  and  nothing  was  said.  Aa 
might  have  been  expected,  he  did  not  miss  the  small 
Bum  which  Roswell  had  appropriated. 

That  evening  Roswell  bought  a  couple  of  cigan 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  189 

with  the  money  lie  had  stolen  (we  might  as  well  call 
things  by  their  right  names),  and  treated  Ralph  to 
one. 

"  There's  a  splendid  play  on  at  Wallack'e,"  said 
he7  suggestively. 

"  Perhaps  we'll  go  to-morrow  evening,"  said  Ros* 
well. 

"  That's  the  way  to  talk,"  said  Ralph,  looking 
keenly  at  Roswell.  "Is  there  anything  new  with 
you  ?  " 

"  Not  particularly,"  said  Roswell,  coloring  a  little, 
for  he  did  not  care  to  own  what  he  had  done  to  his 
companion,  though  it  was  from  him  that  he  had  re- 
ceived the  advice. 

The  next  day  when  Roswell  was  again  alone,  a 
lady  entered  the  shop. 

"Have  you  got  La  Fontaine's  Fables  in  Eng- 
lish ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  have  asked  at  half  a  dozen 
stores,  but  I  can't  find  it.  I  am  afraid  it  is  out  o\ 
print." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  we  have  it,"  said  Roswell. 

He  remembered  one  day  when  he  was  looking  for 
a  book  he  wanted  to  read,  that  he  had  come  across  a 
shop-worn  copy  of  La  Fontaine's  Fables.      It  wa* 


190  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY} 

on  a  back  shelf,  in  an  out  of-the-way  place.  He 
looked  for  it,  and  found  his  memory  had  served  him 
correctly. 

'■  Here  it  is,"  he  said,  handing  it  down. 

"lam  very  glad  to  get  it,"  said  the  lady.  How 
much  will  it  be  ?  " 

"  The  regular  price  is  a  dollar  and  a  quarter,  but 
as  this  is  a  little  shop-worn  you  may  have  it  for  a 
dollar.'' 

"Very  well." 

The  lady  drew  out  a  dollar  bill  from  her  purse, 
and  handed  it  to  Roswell. 

He  held  it  in  his  hand  till  she  was  fairly  out  of 
the  door.  Then  the  thought  came  into  his  n  nd, 
"  Why  should  I  not  keep  this  money?  Mr.  B  -ker 
would  never  know.  Probably  he  has  quite  forge  ;ten 
that  such  a  book  was  in  his  stock." 

Besides,  as  the  price  of  a  ticket  to  the  family  cir- 
cle at  Wallack's  was  only  thirty  cents,  this  sum 
would  carry  in  him  and  his  friend,  and  there  w<"  uld 
be  enough  left  for  an  ice-cream  after  they  had  got 
through, 

The  temptation  was  too  much  for  poor  Rot  ^elL 
I  call  him  poor,  because  I  pity  any  boy  whe  fool 


OR,    RlCflARD    /lUNTJSR'S    WARD.  131 

ishly  yields  to  such  a  temptation  for  the  sake  of  a 
tf  mporary  gratification. 

Roswell  put  the  money  into  his  vest-p'vjket,  and 
shortly  afterwards  Mr.  Baker  returned  to  the  store. 

"Have  you  sold  anything,  Roswell? "  he  in- 
quired, on  entering. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  have  sold  a  slate,  a  quire  of  note- 
paper,  and  one  of  Oliver  Optic's  books." 

Roswell  showed  Mr.  Baker  the  slate,  on  which,  as 
required  by  his  employer,  he  had  kept  a  record  of 
sales. 

Mr.  Baker  made  no  remark,  but  appeared  to  think 
all  was  right. 

So  the  afternoon  passed  away  without  any  incident 
worthy  of  mention. 

In  the  evening  Roswell  met  Ralph  Graham,  as 
he  had  got  into  the  habit  of  doing. 

"  Well,  Roswell,  I  feel  just  like  going  to  tne 
theatre  to-night,"  were  his  first  words  of  salutation. 

"Well,  we'll  go,"  said  Roswell. 

"  Good  !  You've  got  money  to  buy  the  tickets, 
then  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Roswell,  with  an  air  of  importance. 
«  What's  the  play  ?  " 


192  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY ; 

"  It's  a  London  play  that's  had  a  great  run.  Tom 
Hastings  tells  me  it  is  splendid.  You  take  me  there 
to  night,  and  I'll  take  you  to  the  New  York  Circus 
some  evening  next  week." 

This  arrangement  was  very  satisfactory  to  Ros- 
well,  who  had  never  visited  the  circus,  and  had  a 
great  desire  to  do  so.  At  an  early  hour  the  boys 
went  to  the  theatre,  and  succeeded  in  obtaining  front 
seats  in  the  family  circle.  Roswell  managed  to  en- 
joy the  play,  although  unpleasant  thoughts  of  how 
the  money  was  obtained  by  which  the  tickets  were 
procured,  would  occasionally  intrude  upon  him. 
But  the  fascination  of  the  stage  kept  them  from 
troubling  him  much. 

When  the  performance  was  over,  he  suggested  an 
ice-cream. 

"With  all  my  heart,"  said  Ralph.  "I  feel 
warm  and  thirsty,  and  an  ice-cream  will  cool  my 
throat." 

So  they  adjourned  to  a  confectionery  establishment 
nearly  opposite,  and  Roswell,  with  an  air  of  impor- 
tance, called  for  the  creams.  They  sat  leisurely 
over  them,  and  it  was  nearly  half  past  eleven  -when 
Roswell  got  home. 


OR,    RICHARD  HUNTER  S    WARD.  198 

"  What  keeps  you  out  so  late,  Roswell?  "  asked 
his  mother,  anxiously,  for  she  was  still  up. 

"  I  was  at  the  theatre."  said  Roswell 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  monev  ?  " 

"  It's  only  thirty  cents  to  the  family  circle,"  said 
Roswell,  carelessly.  "  I'm  tired,  and  will  go  right 
up  to  bed." 

So  he  closed  the  discussion,  not  caring  to  answer 
many  inquiries  as  to  his  evening's  amusement.  His 
outlay  for  tickets  and  for  the  ice-cream  afterwards 
had  just  used  up  the  money  he  had  stolen,  and  all 
that  he  had  to  compensate  for  the  loss  of  his  integ- 
rity was  a  headache,  occasioned  by  late  hours,  and 
the  warm  and  confined  atmosphere  at  the  theatre. 
IS 


194  MARK*    THE   MATCH  BOT i 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

RICHARD    HUNTER    IS    PROMCTED. 

It  was  with  eager  impatience  that  Mark  awaited 
the  return  of  Richard  Hunter,  to  communicate  to 
him  his  good  luck  in  securing  a  place.  The  thought 
that  he  had  secured  it  by  his  own  exertions  gave  him 
great  satisfaction. 

"  I've  got  a  place,"  were  his  first  words,  as  Rich- 
ard entered  the  house. 

"Already?"  asked  RichaTd  Hunter.  "You 
have  been  quite  smart,  Mark.  How  dU  you  manage 
to  obtain  it?" 

Mark  gave  the  particulars,  whioh  need  not  be 
lepeated. 

"  What  kind  of  a  store  is  it  ?  " 

"A  bookstore." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  your  employer  ?  " 

•'  Baker.' 

"  Baker's  bookstore  !  "  repeated  Richard   torouig 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  195 

Lo  Fosdick.  "  That  is  where  our  particular  friend, 
Roswell  Crawford,  is  employed." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mark ;  "  there's  a  boy  there  about  t»ix- 
teen  or  seventeen.     I  believe  that  is  his  name." 

"lam  not  sure  whether  his  being  there  will  make 
it  pleasant  to  you.  Does  he  know  that  you  are  a 
friend  of  mine  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Mark;  "he  inquired  particularly 
about  you,  Mr.  Hunter." 

"  He's  very  fond  of  me,"  said  Dick  ;"I  suppose  he 
sent  me  his  love." 

"No,"  said  Mark,  smiling;  "he  didn't  speak  aa 
if  he  loved  you  very  much." 

"  He  doesn't  like  me  very  much.  I  am  afraid 
when  he  gets  to  be  president  I  shan't  stand  much 
chance  of  an  office.  He  didn't  try  to  bully  you,  — 
did  he  ?  " 

"  He  said  he  could  get  me  sent  off  if  I  wasn't 
careful  to  please  him." 

"  That  sounds  like  Roswell." 

'  He  talked  as  if  he  was  one  of  the  firm,"  said 
Mark;  "but  when  Mr.  Baker  came  in,  he  began  to 
scold  him  for  not  dusting  the  books.  After  that  J 
didn't  think  so  much  of  what  he  said." 


196  mark,  the  m^tch  boy; 

"It's  a  way  he  has,"  said  Fosdick.  "He  don't 
like  me  much  either,  as  I  got  a  place  that  he  waa 
trying  for." 

"If  ho  bullies  you,  just  let  me  know,"  said 
Richard.     "  Perhaps  I  can  stop  it." 

"lam  not  afraid,"  said  Mark.  "Mr.  Baker  is 
there  most  of  the  time,  and  he  wouldn't  dare  to 
bully  me  before  him." 

Sunday  morning  came,  —  a  day  when  the  noisy 
streets  were  hushed,  and  the  hum  of  business  was 
stilled.  Richard  Hunter  and  Fosdick  still  attended 
the  Sunday  school,  to  which  they  had  now  belonged 
for  over  two  years.  They  were  still  members  of 
Mr.  Greyson's  class,  and  were  much  better  informed 
in  religious  matters  than  formerly.  Frequently  — 
for  they  were  favorite  scholars  with  Mr.  Greyson  — 
he  invited  them  home  to  dine  at  his  handsome  resi- 
dence. Both  boys  were  now  perfectly  self-possessed 
on  such  occasions.  They  knew  how  to  behave  at  the 
table  with  perfect  decorum,  and  no  one  would  have 
judged  from  their  dress,  manners,  or  conversation, 
that  they  had  not  always  been  accustomed  to  the 
same  style  of  living. 

Mr.  a/id  Mrs    Greyson  noticed  with  pleasure  the 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  197 

great  improvement  in  their  proteges,  and  always 
welcomed  them  with  kind  hospitality  But  there 
was  another  member  of  the  family  who  always 
looked  forward  with  pleasure  to  seeing  them.  This 
was  Ida,  now  a  young  lady  of  thirteen,  who  had 
from  the  first  taken  an  especial  fancy  to  Dick,  as  she 
always  called  him. 

"Well,  Mark,"  said  Richard  Hunter,  on  Sunday 
morning,  "wouldn't  you  like  to  go  to  Sunday- 
school  with  me?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mark.  "  Mother  always  wanted  me 
to  go  to  Sunday  school,  but  she  was  so  poor  that  she 
could  not  dress  me  in  suitable  clothes." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  prevent  your  going  now. 
We  shall  be  ready  in  about  half  an  hour." 

At  the  appointed  time  the  three  set  out.  The  dis- 
tance was  not  great,  the  church  being  situated  foui 
blocks  farther  up  town  on  Fifth  Avenue.  They 
chanced  to  meet  Mr.  Greyson  on  the  church  steps. 

"  Good-morning,  Richard.  Good-morning,  Hen- 
ry," he  said.  Then,  glancing  at  Mark,  "  Who  ia 
your  young  friend?" 

"His  name  is  Mark  Man  ton,"  said  Richard 
'  He  is  my  ward." 


198  MARK,    THE   MATCH    POT; 

11  Indeed  !  I  had  not  thought  of  you  in  the  char- 
acter of  a  guardian,"  said  Mr.  Greyson,  smiling. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  him  enter  one  of  the 
younger  classes,"  said  Richard. 

"  Certainly,  I  will  gladly  find  a  place  for  him. 
Perhaps  you  can  take  him  in  your  class." 

"  In  my  class  !  "  repeated  Richard,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  I  thought  I  had  mentioned  to  you  that  Mr. 
Brnton  was  about  to  leave  the  city,  and  is  obliged  to 
gi^-e  up  his  class.    I  would  like  to  have  you  take  it." 

'i  But  am  I  qualified  to  be  a  teacher?"  asked 
Richard,  who  had  never  before  thought  of  being  in- 
vited to  take  a  class. 

"  I  think  you  have  excellent  qualifications  for 
such  a  position.  It  speaks  well  for  you,  however, 
that  you  should  feel  a  modest  hesitation  on  the  sub- 
ject." 

"I  think  Fosdick  would  make  a  better  teacher 
than  I." 

"  Oh,  I  intend  to  draft  him  into  the  service  also. 
I  shall  ask  him  to  take  the  next  vacancy." 

The  class  assigned  to  our  friend  Dick  (we  are 
gometimes  tempted  to  call  him  by  his  old,  familiar 
name)  coasisted  of  boys  of  from  ten  to  eleven  years  of 


On,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  199 

age.  Among  these  Mark  was  placed.  Although  he 
had  never  before  attended  a  Sunday  school,  hia 
mother,  who  was  an  excellent  woman,  had  given  him 
considerable  religious  -  tstruction,  so  that  he  waa 
about  as  well  advanced  03  the  rest  of  the  class. 

Richard  easily  adapted  himself  to  the  new  situation 
in  which  he  was  placed  He  illustrated  the  lesson 
in  a  familiar  and  oftentimes  quaint  manner,  so  that 
he  easily  commanded  the  attention  of  the  boys,  who 
were  surprised  when  the  time  came  for  the  lesson  to 
close. 

"lam  glad  you  are  my  teacher,  Mr.  Hunter," 
said  one  of  the  boys  at  the  close  of  the  service. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Richard,  who  felt  gratified  at 
the  compliment.  "It's  new  business  to  me,  but  I 
hope  I  shall  be  able  to  interest  you." 

"  Won't  you  come  and  dine  with  us?  "  asked  Mr. 
Greyson,  as  they  were  leaving  the  church. 

Richard  Hunter  hesitated. 

''  I  don't  know  if  Mark  can  find  his  way  home," 
he  said  with  hesitation. 

"Yes,  I  can,  Mr.  Hunter,"  said  Mark.  "  Don't 
trouble  yourself  about  me." 

"But  I  mean  to  have  him  come  too,"  said  Mr 


200  MARK)    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

Greyson.  "  Our  table  is  a  large  one,  as  you  know, 
and  we  can  accommodate  three  as  well  as  two." 

"  D)  come,  Dick,"  said  Ida  Greyson. 

Richard  was  seldom  able  to  resist  a  request  pre- 
ferred by  Ida,  and  surrendered  at  discretion.  So,  as 
usual,  Fosdick  walked  on  with  Mr.  Greyson,  this 
time  with  Mark  beside  him,  while  Richard  walked 
with  Ida. 

"  Who  is  that  little  boy,  Dick?  "  asked  the  young 
lady. 

"  That's  my  ward,  Miss  Ida,"  said  Richard. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  are  his  guardian, 
Dick?" 

"  Yes,  I  believe  I  am." 

"Why,"  said  the  lively  young  lady,  "  I  always 
thought  guardians  were  old,  and  cross,  and  bald- 
headed." 

"I  don't  know  but  that  description  will  suit  me 
after  a  while,"  said  Dick.  "  My  hair  has  been  com- 
ing out  lately." 

"  Has  it,  really  ?  "  said  Ida,  who  took  this  serious- 
ly. "I  hope  you  won't  be  bald,  I  don't  think  yoa 
would  look  well." 

"  But  I  might  wear  a  wig." 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  201 

"  I    don't   like  wigs,"  said  the  young  lady,  de- 
idedly.      "  If  you    were   a  lady  now,   you  might 
wear  a  cap.     How  funny  you'd  look  in  a  cap !  " 
and  she  burst   out   into   a   peal   of  merry  laugh- 
ter. 

"  I  think  a  cap  would  be  more  becoming  to  you," 
said  Richard. 

"  Do  you  ever  scold  your  ward?  "  asked  Ida. 

"  No,   he's  a  pretty  good  boy.     He  don't  need 
it." 

"Where  did  you  get  acquainted  with  him  9    Have 
you  known  him  long?  " 

"  He  was  taken  sick  at  the  door  of  our  office  one 
day.  So  I  had  him  carried  to  my  boarding-place, 
and  took  care  of  him  till  he  got  well." 

"  That  was  very  good  of  you,"  said  Ida,  approv- 
ingly.    "  What  did  he  use  to  do  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  match  boy." 

"  Does  he  sell  matches  now  ?  " 

"  No ;  he  has  got  a  place  in  a  bookstore." 

"  What  did  you  say  his  name  was?  " 

"Mark." 

"  That's  a  pretty  good  name,  buf  I  don't  like  it  so 
well  as  Dick." 


202  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOT; 

"Thank  you,"  said  Richard.  "I  am  glad  you 
like  my  name." 

At  this  moment  they  were  passing  the  Fifth  Ave- 
nue Hotel.  Standing  on  the  steps  were  two  ac- 
quaintances of  ours,  Roswell  Crawford  and  Ralph 
Graham.  They  had  cigars  in  their  mouths,  and 
there  was  a  swaggering  air  about  them,  which  waa 
not  likely  to  prepossess  any  sensible  person  in  their 
favor.  They  had  not  been  to  church,  but  had 
spent  the  morning  in  sauntering  about  the  city, 
finally  bringing  up  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel, 
where,  posting  themselves  conspicuously  on  the 
steps,  they  watched  the  people  passing  by  on  their 
way  from  church. 

Richard  Hunter  bowed  to  Roswell,  as  it  was  hia 
rule  never  to  be  found  wanting  in  politeness.  Ros- 
well was  ill-mannered  enough  not  to  return  the  salu- 
tation. 

"  Who  is  that,  Roswell  ?  "  asked  Ralph  Graham. 

"It's  a  boot-black,"  said  Roswell,  sneeringly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  am  speaking  of  that 
nice-looking  young  fellow  that  bowed  to  you  just 
now." 

"Hia  name  is  Hunter.     He  used  to  be  a  boot- 


OK,    RICHARD    ntrSTEIi'S    WARD.  203 

black,  as  I  told  you ;  but  he's  got  up  in  the  world, 
and  now  he's  putting  on  airs." 

"  He  seems  to  have  got  into  good  company,  at  any 
rate.  He  is  walking  with  the  daughter  of  Mr. 
Greyson,  a  rich  merchant  down  town." 

"  He's  got  impudence  enough  for  anything,"  sai 
Itoswell,  with  a  feeling  of  bitter  envy  which  he  could 
not   conceal.     "  It   really   makes   me    sick   to   see 
him  strutting   about   as  if  he    were  a  gentleman's 
son." 

"  Like  you,"  suggested  Ralph,  slyly;  for  he  had 
already  been  informed  by  Roswell,  on  various  occa- 
sions, that  he  was  "  a  gentleman's  son." 

"  Yes,"  said  Roswell,  "  I'm  a  gentleman's  son,  if 
I'm  not  so  lucky  as  some  people.  Did  you  see  that 
small  boy  in  front?  " 

' '  Walking  with  Mr.  Greyson  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"What  of  him?" 

"  That's  our  errand  boy," 

"Is  it?"  asked  Ralph,  in  some  surprise.  "He 
*eeins  to  be  one  of  the  lucky  kind  too." 

"  He  sold  matches  about  the  streets  till  a  few 
weeks  ago,"  said  Roswell,  spitefully. 


204 


MARK,    THE    MATCH  BOY / 


"  He  sold  them  to  some  purpose,  it  seems,  for  he's 
evidently  going  home  to  dine  with  Mr.  Greyson  " 

"  Mr.  Greyson  seems  to  be  very  fond  of  low  com 
{.•any.     That's  all  I  can  say." 

"  When  you  and  I  get  to  be  as  rich  as  he  is,  we 
can  choose  our  own  company." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  choose  better  than  he." 

"Well,  let's  drop  them,"  said  Ralph,  who  waa 
getting  tired  of  the  subject.  "I  must  be  getting 
home  to  dinner." 

"  So  must  I." 

"  Come  round  to  my  room,  after  dinner,  and  we'll 
have  another  smoke." 

"  Yes,  I'll  come  round.  I  suppose  mother' 11  be 
wanting  me  to  go  to  church  with  her,  but  I've  got 
tired  of  going  to  church." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  205 


CHAPTER    XX 


THE    MADISON    CLUB. 


Tiv  o  days  afterwards,  when  Roswell  as  usual  met 
nis  fr*«ud  Ralph,  the  latter  said,  with  an  air  of  im- 
portance :  — 

"I've  got  news  for  you,  Roswell." 

"What  is  it  ?  "  inquired  Roswell. 

"  You've  been  unanimously  elected  a  member  of 
our  club." 

"Your  club  ?!5 

"  Yes ;  didn't  I  ever  mention  it  to  you?  " 

"No." 

"  Well,  I  believe  I  didn't".  You  see  I  intended 
to  propose  your  name  as  a  member,  and  not  feeling 
certain  whether  you  would  be  elected,  I  thought  I 
had  better  not  mention  it  to  you." 

"What  is  the  name  of  the  club?"  asked  Ros- 
well, eagerly. 

"  The  Madison  Club." 


206  MARK,    THE  MATCH  BOY  J 

"  What  made  you  call  it  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  see,  there's  one  fellow  in  the  club 
that  lives  on  Madison  Avenue,  and  we  thought  thai 
would  be  an  aristocratic  name,  so  we  chose  it." 

Roswell  liked  whatever  was  aristocratic,  and  the 
name  pleased  him. 

"  Did  you  say  I  was  unanimously  elected,  Ralph  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Yes ;  I  proposed  your  name  at  our  meeting  last 
night.  It  was  on  account  of  that,  that  I  couldn't 
meet  you  as  usual.  But  hereafter  we  can  go  to- 
gether to  the  meetings." 

"  How  many  fellows  belong  ?  " 

"  Twenty.  We  don't  mean  to  have  more  than 
twenty-five.  We  are  quite  particular  whom  we 
elect." 

•J  Of  course,"  said  Roswell,  in  a  tone  of  impor- 
tance. "You  wouldn't  want  a  set  of  low  fellows 
like  that  Dick  Hunter." 

"  No.  By  the  way,  I've  got  somewhere  your 
notification  from  the  secretary.     Here  it  is." 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  note  adorned  with  a 
large  and  elaborate  seal,  which  Roswell,  opening, 
found  read  as  follows  :  — 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  207 

"MADISON    CLUB. 
"  Mr.  Rosweix  Crawfoud. 

"Sir:  —  I  have  the  honor  of  informing  you  that  at  th« 
last  regular  meeting  of  the  Madison  Club  you  were  unani- 
mously elected  a  member. 

"  Yours  respectfully, 

"James  Tracy." 


This  document  Roswell  read  with  much  satisfac- 
tion. It  sounded  well  to  say  that  he  was  a  member 
of  the  Madison  Club,  and  his  unanimous  election 
could  only  be  regarded  as  a  high  compliment. 

"I  will  join,"  he  said,  pompously.  "When  ia 
the  next  meeting?  " 

"  Next  Tuesday  evening." 

"  Where  does  the  society  meet?  " 

In  a  room  on  Fourth  Avenue.  You  can  come 
round  early,  and  we  will  go  together." 

"  All  right.     What  do  you  do  at  the  meetings?  " 

"  Well,  we  smoke,  and  tell  stories,  and  have  a 
good  time.  Generally  there  are  some  eatables  pro- 
vided. However,  you'll  know  all  about  it,  when  you 
join.  Oh,  by  the  way,  there's  one  thing  I  forgot  to 
tell  you,"  added  Ralph.  "There's  an  initiation  fee 
of  five  dollars." 


208  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY  I 

"  A  fee  of  five  dollars!  "  repeated  Roswell,  so 
beily. 

'•  Yes." 

"What  is  it  for?" 

"To  defray  expenses,  of  course.  There's  the 
rent,  and  lights,  and  stationery,  and  the  eatables. 
They  always,  I  think,  have  an  initiation  fee  at 
clubs." 

"  Are  there  any  other  expenses?  " 

"  Not  much.  There's  only  a  dollar  a  month. 
That  isn't  much." 

"  I  don't  know  how  I'm  going  to  raise  the  five 
dollars,"  said  Roswell,  soberly.  "  I  could  manage 
the  dollar  a  month  afterwards." 

"  Oh,  you'll  think  of  some  way,"  said  Ralph. 

"  My  mother  wouldn't  give  it  to  me,  so  there's  no 
use  asking  her." 

"  Why  can't  you  pay  it  out  of  your  extra  wages  ?  ' 
said  Ralph,  significantly. 

"  I  shouldn't  dare  to  take  such  a  large  sum,'1  said 
Roswell.     "  They  would  find  me  out." 

"Not  if  you're  careful." 

"  They  don't  keep  but  a  few  dollars  in  the  drawei 
at  one  time." 


rMT,    RICnARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  209 

"  But  didn't  you  tell  me  there  was  another 
drawer? ' 

"  Yes  ;  but  that  is  always  kept  locked." 

"  Open  it  then." 

"  I  have  no  key." 

"  Get  one  that  will  fit  it  then." 

"  I  don't  like  to  do  that." 

"  Well,  it's  nothing  to  me,"  said  Ralph,  "only  I 
should  like  to  have  you  belong  to  the  club,  and  you 
can't  unless  you  are  able  to  pay  the  initiation  fee." 

"I  would  like  very  much  to  belong,"  said  Ros- 
well, irresolutely. 

"  I  know  you  would  enjoy  it.  We  have  splendid 
times." 

"  I'll  see  what  I  can  do  to  raise  the  money,"  said 
Roswell. 

"  That's  the  way  to  talk.  You'll  manage  to  get 
it  some  way." 

It  was  a  great  temptation  to  Roswell.  The  more 
he  thought  of  it,  the  more  he  thought  he  should  like 
to  say  that  he  was  a  member  of  the  Madison  Club. 
Lie  had  a  weak  love  of  gentility,  and  he  was  per- 
Buaded  that  it  would  improve  his  social  standing. 
But  he  did  not  wish  to  adopt  the  course  recommended 
14 


210  MARK*    THE    MATCH   BOY '/ 

by  Ralph  if  there  was  any  other  way  of  getting  the 
money.  He  determined,  therefore,  first  to  make  the 
effort  to  obtain  the  money  from  his  mother  on  somo 
pretext  or  other.  By  the  time  he  reached  home, 
which  was  at  an  earlier  hour  than  usual,  he  had  ar- 
ranged his  pretext. 

"I   am    glad  you  are  home   early,"  said   Mrs. 
Crawford. 

"  Yes,  I  thought  I'd  come  home  early  to-night 
Mother,  I  wish  you'd  let  me  have  four  dollars." 

"What  for,  Roswell?" 

"  I  want  to  buy  a  new  hat.  This  one  is  getting 
shabby." 

Roswell's  plan  was,  if  he  could  obtain  the  four 
dollars  from  his  mother,  to  make  up  the  extra  dol 
lar  out  of  sales  unaccounted  for.  As  to  the  failure 
to  buy  the  hat,  he  could  tell  his  mother  that  he  had 
lost  the  money,  or  make  some  other  excuse.  That 
thought  did  not  trouble  him  much.  But  he  was  not 
destined  to  succeed. 

;<Iam  sorry  you  are  dissatisfied  with  your  hat, 
Roswell,"  said  Mrs.  Crawford,  "for  I  cannot  poss'* 
bly  spare  you  the  money  now." 

"  So  you  always  say,"  grumbled  Roswell. 


Oil,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  211 

"  But  it's  true,"  said  his  mother.  "  I'm  very 
short  just  now.  The  rent  comes  due  in  a  few  days, 
and  I  am  trying  hard  to  get  together  money  enough 
to  pay  it." 

"  I  thought  you  had  money  coming  in  from  youl 
lodgers." 

"There's  Mr.  Bancroft  hasn't  paid  me  for  six 
weeks,  and  I'm  afraid  I  am  going  to  lose  his  room- 
rent.  "  It's  hard  work  for  a  woman  to  get  along. 
Everybody  takes  advantage  of  her,"  said  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford, sighing. 

"  Can't  jou  possibly  let  mo  have  the  money  by 
Saturday,  mother?  " 

"  No,  Roswell.  Perhaps  in  a  few  weeks  I  can. 
But  I  don't  think  your  hat  looks  bad.  You  can  go 
and  get  it  pressed  if  you  wish." 

But  Roswell  declared  that  wouldn't  do,  and  left 
the  room  in  an  ill-humor.  Instead  of  feeling  for  his 
mother,  and  wishing  to  help  her,  he  was  intent  only 
upon  his  own  selfish  gratifications. 

So  much,  then,  was  plain,  —  in  his  efforts  to  raise 
the  money  for  the  initiation  fee  at  the  club,  ho 
could  not  expect  any  help  from  his  mother.  H« 
must  rely  upon  other  means. 


212  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY/ 

Gradually  Roswell  came  to  the  determination  to 
follow  the  dangerous  advice  which  had  been  proffered 
him  by  Ralph  Graham.  He  could  not  bear  to  give 
up  the  project  of  belonging  to  the  club,  and  was  wil- 
ling to  commit  a  dishonest  act  rather  than  forego  the 
opportunity. 

He  began  to  think  now  of  the  manner  in  which  he 
could  accomplish  what  he  had  in  view.  The  next 
day  when  noon  came  he  went  round  to  the  locked 
drawer,  and,  lighting  a  piece  of  sealing-wax  which  he 
had  taken  from  one  of  the  cases,  he  obtained  a  clear 
impression  of  the  lock. 

"I  think  that  will  do,"  thought  Roswell. 

At  that  moment  a  customer  entered  the  store,  and 
he  hurried  the  stick  of  sealing-wax  into  his  pocket. 

When  the  store  closed,  Roswell  went  round  to  a 
locksmith,  whose  sign  he  remembered  to  have  seen 
in  Third  Avenue. 

He  entered  the  shop  with  a  guilty  feeling  at  hi& 
heart,  though  he  had  a  plausible  story  arranged  for 
the  occasion. 

"  I  want  a  key  made,"  he  said,  in  a  business-like 
manner;  "one  that  will  fit  this  lock." 

Here  he  displayed  the  wax  impression. 


OK,    RICHARD   HUNTERS    WARD.  213 

"  What  sort  of  a  lock  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  locksmith, 
looking  at  it. 

"  It  is  a  bureau  drawer,"  said  Roswell.  "  We 
have  lost  the  key,  and  can't  open  it.  So  I  took  the 
impression  in  wax.  How  soon  can  you  let  me  have 
it?" 

"  Are  you  in  a  hurry  for  it?  " 

"Yes;  didn't  I  tell  you  we  couldn't  open  the 
drawer?" 

"  Well,  I'll  try  to  let  you  have  it  by  to-morrow 
night." 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Roswell. 

He  left  the  locksmith's  shop  with  mixed  feelings 
of  satisfaction  and  shame  at  the  thought  of  the  uso 
to  which  he  was  intending  to  put  the  key.  It  was  a 
great  price  he  had  determined  to  pay  for  the  honoi 
of  belonging  to  the  Madison  Club. 


214  MARA',    THE   MATCH   BOY ,' 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

ftOSWELL   JOINS   THE   MADISON    CLUB 

It  (rets  not  until  Saturday  night  that  Roswell  ob- 
tained the  key.  The  locksmith,  like  tradesmen  and 
mechanics  in  general,  kept  putting  him  off,  to  Ros- 
well 's  great  annoyance. 

As  he  did  not  get  the  key  till  Saturday  night,  of 
course  there  would  be  no  opportunity  of  using  it  till 
Monday.  The  only  time  then  was  the  hour  in  which 
Mr.  Baker  and  Mr.  Jones  were  absent,  and  Roswell 
was  left  alone.  But  to  his  great  vexation,  an  old 
gentleman  came  in  directly  after  Mr.  Baker  went 
out,  and  inquired  for  him. 

"He's  gone  to  dinner,"  said  Roswell. 

"I  think  I'll  wait  till  he  returns,"  said  the 
Visitor,  coolly  sitting  down  in  Mr.  Baker's  arm-chair. 

Roswell  was  in  dismay,  for  this  would  of  course 
prevent  his  using  the  key  which  he  had  taken  so 
much  trouble  to  obtain. 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  215 

"Mr.  Baker  is  always  out  a  good  while,"  said 
Roswell. 

"  Never  mind,  I  can  wait  for  him.  I  came  in 
from  the  country  this  morning,  and  shall  not  need  to 
Btart  back  till  four." 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  Roswell,  "you  could  go 
out  and  do  the  rest  of  your  errands,  and  come  back 
at  two  o'clock.  Mr.  Baker  will  be  sure  to  be  back 
then." 

"  Who  told  you  I  had  any  more  errands  to  do?  " 
asked  the  old  gentleman,  sharply. 

"  I  thought  you  might  have,"  said  Roswell,  some- 
what confused. 

"You  are  very  considerate;  but,  as  my  business  is 
over  for  the  day,  I  will  ask  your  permission  to  re- 
main till  my  nephew  returns." 

So  this  was  Mr.  Baker's  uncle,  a  shrewd  old  gen- 
tlemen, if  he  did  live  in  the  country. 

"Certainly,"  said  Roswell,  but  not  with  a  very 
good  grace,  adding  to  himself;  "  there'll  be  no 
chance  for  me  to  get  the  money  to-day.  I  hope  tha 
old  fellow  won't  come  round  again  to-morrow." 

The  next  day  was  Tuesday.  In  the  evening  th« 
club  was  to  meet,  so  there  was  no  time  to  lose. 


216  MARK,    THE   MATCH  EOT J 

Fortunately,  as  Roswell  thought,  the  coast  was 
clear. 

"Suppose  the  key  won't  fit?':  \ie  thought  with 
uneasiness. 

It  would  have  been  lucky  for  Roswell  if  the  key 
had  not  fitted.  But  it  proved  to  fit  exactly.  Turn- 
ing it  in  the  lock,  the  drawer  opened,  and  br fore  him 
lay  a  pile  of  bills. 

How  much  or  how  little  there  might  be  Roswell 
did  not  stop  to  examine.  He  knew  that  a  cus("omei 
might  come  in  at  any  time,  and  he  must  do  at 
once  what  he  meant  to  do.  At  the  top  of  the  pile 
there  was  a  five-dollar  bill.  He  took  it,  slipped  it 
hastily  into  his  vest-pocket,  relocked  the  drawer, 
and,  walking  away  from  it,  began  to  dust  the  books 
upon  the  counter. 

He  felt  that  he  had  taken  the  decisive  step.  He 
was  supplied  with  the  necessary  money  to  pay  the 
initiation  fee.  The  question  was,  would  Mr.  Baker 
find  it  out  ? 

Suppose  he  should,  how  would  it  be  possible  to 
evade  suspicion,  or  to  throw  it  upon  some  one 
else? 

"  If  I  could  make  him  think  it  was  the  matcb 


or,  nicnARo  hunter's  ward.  217 

boy,"  thought  Roswell,  "I  should  be  ki.Iing  two 
birds  with  one  stone.     I  must  see  what  can  be  done." 

When  Mr.  Baker  returned,  Roswell  feared  he  would 
gc  to  the  drawer,  but  he  did  not  seem  inclined  to  do 
this. 

He  just  entered  the  store,  and  said,  "  Mr.  Jones, 
I  am  obliged  to  go  over  to  Brooklyn  on  a  little  busi- 
ness, and  I  may  not  be  back  this  afternoon." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Jones. 

Roswell  breathed  freer  after  he  had  left  the  shop. 
It  had  occurred  to  him  as  possible  that  if  the  money 
were  missed,  he  might  be  searched,  in  which  case 
the  key  and  the  bill  in  his  pocket  would  be  enough 
to  convict  him.  Now  he  should  not  see  Mr.  Baker 
again  till  the  next  day  probably,  when  the  money 
would  be  disposed  of. 

Mr.  Baker,  as  he  anticipated,  did  not  return  from 
Brooklyn  before  Roswell  left  the  store. 

Roswell  snatched  a  hasty  supper,  and  went  over  lo 
his  friend,  Ralph  Graham's  room,  immediately  after- 
wards. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Roswell,"  said  Ralph;  "are 
you  coming  to  the  club  with  me  to-night?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Roswell. 


218  MARK,    THE    MATCH    BOY  J 

11  Have  you  got  the  five  dollars  ?'' 

"Yes." 

'  How  did  you  manage  it?  " 

"  Oh,  I  contrived  to  get  it,"  said  Roswell,  who  did 
Qot  like  to  confess  in  what  way  he  had  secured  pos- 
session of  the  money. 

"  We'',  it's  all  right,  as  long  as  you've  got  it.  I 
was  afraid  you  wouldn't  succeed." 

"  So  was  I,"  said  Roswell.  "  I  had  hard  work  of 
it.  What  time  do  the  club  meetings  begin  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  At  eight  o'clock,  but  I  generally  go  round  about 
half  an  hour  before.  Generally,  some  of  the  fellows 
are  there,  and  we  can  have  a  social  chat.  I  guess 
we'll  go  round  at  half-past  seven,  and  that  will  give 
me  a  chance  to  introduce  you  to  some  of  the  members 
before  the  meeting  begins." 

"I  should  like  that,"  said  Roswell. 

In  a  short  time  the  boys  set  out.  They  paused 
before  a  small  house  on  Fourth  Avenue,  and  rang  the 
bell.  The  summons  was  answered  by  a  colored 
man. 

"Any  members  of  the  club  upstairs?''  inquired 
Ralph. 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WAT    '.  219 

"  YbB,  sir,"  said  the  attendant.  "  There's  Mr. 
Tracy,  Mr.  Wilmot,  and  Mr.  Burgess." 

"  Very  well,  I'll  go  up." 

"Jackson,"  said  Ralph,  "this  gentleman  is  Mr 
Crawford,  a  new  member." 

"Glad  to  make  jour  acquaintance,  sir,"  said 
Jackson. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Roswell. 

"  Jackson  takes  care  of  the  club-room,"  explained 
Ralph,  "  and  is  in  attendance  to  admit  the  members 
on  club  nights.    Now  let  us  go  upstairs." 

They  went  up  one  flight  of  stairs,  and  opened  the 
door  of  a  back  room. 

It  was  not  a  very  imposing-looking  apartment,  being 
only  about  twenty  feet  square,  the  floor  covered  with 
a  faded  carpet,  while  the  furniture  was  not  particular- 
ly sumptuous.  At  one  end  of  the  room  was  a  table, 
behind  which  were  two  arm-chairs. 

"  That  is  where  the  president  and  secretary  &,t," 
said  Ralph. 

There  were  already  three  or  four  youths  in  the 
room.  One  of  them  came  forward  and  offered  bij 
hand  to  Ralph. 

"  How  are  you,  Graham  ?  "  he  said. 


220  MARK,    THE    MATCH    BOT'r 

"  ILow  are  you,  Tracy  ? "  returned  Ralph 
"  This  is  Mr.  Crawford,  who  was  elected  a  raembei 
at  our  last  meeting.  Roswell,  this  is  Mi  Tracy, 
our  secretary." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Crawford,"  said 
Tracy.  "  I  hope  you  received  the  notification  of 
your  election  which  I  sent  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Roswell.  "I  am  much  obliged  to 
you." 

"  I  hope  you  intend  to  accept." 

"It  will  give  me  great  pleasure,"  said  Roswell. 
11  You  must  have  very  pleasant  meetings." 

"I  hope  you  will  find  them  pleasant.  By  the 
way,  here  is  our  president,  Mr.  Brandon.  Brandon, 
let  me  introduce  you  to  a  new  member  of  our  society, 
Mr.  Crawford." 

The  president,  who  was  a  tall  young  man  of 
eighteen,  bowed  graciously  to  Roswell. 

"  Mr.  Crawford,"  said  he,  "  allow  me,  in  the  name 
of  the  society,  to  bid  you  welcome  to  our  gay  and 
festive  meetings.  We  are  a  band  of  good  fellows. 
who  like  to  meet  together  and  have  a  social  time. 
We  are  proud  to  receive  you  into  our  raak*." 

"And  I  am  very  glad  to  belong,"  w»J   Roswell, 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  221 

who  felt  highly  pleased  at  the  cordial  manner  iu 
which  he  was  received. 

"  You'd  better  go  to  the  secretary,  and  enter  your 
name  in  the  books  of  the  club,"  suggested  Ralph. 
"You  can  pay  him  the  five  dollars  at  the  same  time. 
Here,  Tracy,  Mr.  Crawford  wants  to  enroll  hia 
name." 

"  All  right,"  said  Tracy  ;  "  walk  this  way  if  you 
please,  Mr.  Crawford." 

Roswell  wrote  down  his  name,  residence,  and  the 
store  where  he  was  employed. 

"  I  see,  Mr.  Crawford,  you  are  engaged  in  literary 
pursuits,"  said  the  secretary. 

"Yes,  for  the  present,"  said  Roswell.  "I  don't 
think  I  shall  remain  long,  as  the  book  business 
doesn't  give  me  scope  enough ;  but  I  shall  not  leave 
at  present,  as  it  might  inconvenience  Mr.  Baker. 
What  is  your  initiation  fee?" 

"  Five  dollars." 

"  I  happen  to  have  the  money  with  me,  I  believe,' 
said  Roswell.     "  Here  it  ;s  " 

"  Thank  you;  that  is  right.  I  will  enter  you  aa 
paid  The  monthly  assessments  are  one  dollar,  aa 
perhaps  Graham  told  you." 


222  MARK,    THE   MATCH    BOY / 

"  Yes,  I  think  he  mentioned  it.  It  is  quite  rea- 
sonable, I  think,"  said  Roswell,  in  a  tone  ^hich 
seemed  to  indicate  that  he  was  never  at  a  loss  foif 
money. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,  considering  our  expenses.  You 
see  we  have  to  pay  for  the  room  ;  then  we  pay 
Jackson's  wages,  and  there  are  cigars,  etc.,  for  the 
use  of  the  members.  Have  you  ever  before  belonged 
to  a  club?  " 

"  No,"  said  Roswell.      "  I  have  always  declined 
hitherto  (he  had  never  before  received  an  invitation) 
but  I  was  so  much  pleased  with  what  I  heard  of  th 
Madison  Club  from  my  friend  Graham,  that  I  deter- 
mined to  join.     I  am  glad  that  you  are  particular 
whom  you  admit  as  members  of  the  club." 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  are  very  exclusive,"  said  Tracy. 
"We  are  not  willing  to  admit  anybody  and  every- 
body." 

Meanwhile  there  had  been  numerous  arrivals,  until 
probably  nearly  all  the  members  of  the  club  were 
present. 

'*  Order,  gentlemen  !  "  said  the  president,  assum- 
ing the  chair,  and  striking  the  table  at  the  same 
time      "  The  club  will  please  come  to  order." 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  223 

There  was  a  momentary  confusion,  but  at  length 
the  members  settled  into  their  seats,  and  silence  pre- 
vailed. Roswell  Crawford  took  a  seat  beside  RalpJb 
Graham 


224  MARK*    THE   MATCH  BOTJ 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


A    CLUB   NIGHT. 


'The  secretary  will  read  the  journal  of  the  last 
meeting,"  said  President  Brandon. 

Tracy  iose,  and  read  a  brief  report,  which  was 
accepted,  according  to  form. 

"  Is  there  any  business  to  come  before  the  club  ?  ' 
inquired  the  president. 

"I  would  like  to  nominate  a  friend  of  mine  as  a 
member  of  the  club,"  said  Burgess. 

"  What's  his  name?  "  inquired  a  member. 

"Henry  Dmyton." 

"  Will  Mr.  Burgess  give  some  account  of  his  friend, 
so  that  the  members  can  vote  intelligently  on  hia 
election  ?  "  requested  Brandon. 

"  He's  a  jolly  sort  of  fellow,  and  a  good  singer," 
said  Burgess.  "  He'll  help  make  our  meetings 
lively.     He's   about  my  age  —  " 

"  In  his  second  childhood,"  suggested  Wilmot. 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER* S    WARD.  225 

This  produced  a  laugh  at  the  expense  of  Burgess, 
who  took  it  good-naturedly. 

"Has  he  got  five  dollars?"  inquired  another 
member. 

"His  father  is  a  rich  man,"  said  Burgess. 
"There  will  be  no  fear  about  his  not  paying  hia 
assessments." 

"That's  the  principal  thing,"  said  Wilmot.  "1 
second  the  nomination." 

A  vote  was  taken  which  was  unanimously  affirm- 
ative. 

"  Mr.  Drayton  is  unanimously  elected  a  member 
of  the  Madison  Club,"  announced  the  president. 
"  Notification  will  be  duly  sent  him  by  the  secretary. 
Is  there  any  other  business  to  come  before  the 
club  ?  " 

As  there  appeared  to  be  none,  Brandon  added, 
"  Then  we  will  proceed  to  the  more  agreeable  duties 
vhich  have  brought  us  hither." 

He  rang  a  small  bell. 

Jackson  answered  the  summons. 

"  Jackson,  is  the  punch  ready  ? "  inquired  the 
president. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Jackson. 

15 


226  MAliK,    THE   MATCH  BOY ; 

"Then  bring  it  in.  I  appoint  Wilniot  and  Bu.. 
gess  to  lend  you  the  necessary  aid." 

A  large  flagon  of  hot  whiskey  punch  was  brougnt 
in  and  placed  on  a  table.  Glasses  were  produced 
from  a  closet  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and  it  waa 
Berved  out  to  the  members. 

"  How  do  you  like  it,  Roswell?  "  inquired  Ralph 
Graham. 

"It's  —  rather  strong,"  said  Roswell,  coughing. 

"  Oh,  you'll  soon  be  used  to  it.  The  fellows  will 
begin  to  be  jolly  after  they've  drunk  a  glass  or 
two." 

"  Do  they  ever  get  tight  ?  "  whispered  Roswell. 

"  A  little  lively,  —that's  all." 

The  effect  predicted  soon  followed. 

"  Wilmot,  give  us  a  song,"  said  Burgess. 

"What  will  you  have?"  said  Wilmot,  whose 
flushed  face  showed  that  the  punch  had  begun  to 
affect  him. 

"  Oh,  you  can  give  us  an  air  from  one  of  the 
operas." 

"  Villikens  and  his  Dinah?  ''  suggested  Tracy. 

"  Very  good."  said  Wilmot. 

Wilmot  was  one  of  those,  who,  with  no  voice  at 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  227 

musical  euc,  are  under  the  delusion  that  they  are 
admirable  singers.  He  executed  the  song  in  hia 
usual  style,  and  was  rewarded  with  vociferous 
applause,  which  appeared  to  gratify  him. 

"  Gentleman,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  upon  hia 
heart,  "lam  deeply  grateful  for  your  kind  appreci- 
ation of  my  — " 

"  Admirable  sinking, "  suggested  Dunbar. 

"  Of  my  admirable  singing,"  repeated  Wilmot. 
gravely. 

This  speech  was  naturally  followed  by  an  out- 
burst of  laughter.  Wilmot  looked  around  him  in 
grave  surprise. 

"I  don't  see  what  you  fellows  are  laughing  at," 
he  said,  "  unless  you're  all  drunk." 

He  sat  down  amid  a  round  of  applause,  evidently 
puzzled  to  understand  the  effect  of  his  words. 

After  this,  David  Green  arose,  and  rehearsed  amid 
great  applause  a  stump  speech  which  he  had  heard 
at  some  minstrel  entertainment  which  he  had  at- 
tended. 

"  How  do  you  like  it,  Roswell?  "  again  inquired 
Ralph  Graham. 

"It's  splendid,"  said  Roswell,  enthusiastically. 


t2H  MARK,    THE   MATCH    BOT} 

1  Are  you  glad  you  joined  ?  " 

'  Yes;  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  a  good 
deal  ' 

"  knew  you'd  say  so.  Have  your  glass  filled 
Here   Jackson,  fill  this  gentleman's  glass." 

Rot  veil  was  beginning  to  feel  a  little  light-headed; 
but  th(  punch  had  excited  him,  and  he  had  become 
in  a  de  p*ee  reckless  of  consequences.  So  he  made 
no  opp<  ^ition  to  the  proposal,  but  held  out  his  glass, 
which  was  soon  returned  to  him  filled  to  the 
brim. 

"  Speech  from  the  new  member  !  "  called  Dunbar, 
after  a  while. 

"  Yes,  speech,  speech  !  " 

All  eyes  were  turned  towards  Roswell. 

"  You'd  better  say  something,"  said  Ralph. 

Roswell  rose  to  his  feet,  but  found  it  necessary  to 
Aold  on  to  his  chair  for  support. 

"Mr.  President,"  commenced  Roswell,  gazing 
about  him  in  a  vacant  way,  "  this  is  a  great  occa- 
sion." 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  said  Burgess. 

"  We  are  assembled  to-night  —  " 

"  So  we  are.     Bright  boy  !  "  said  David   Green 


On,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  229 

"lama  gentleman's  son,"  continued  Rjswell. 

"What's  the  gentleman's  name?"  interrupted 
Wilmot. 

"  And  I  think  it's  a  shame  that  I  should  only  be 
paid  six  dollars  a  week  for  my  services." 

"  Bring  your  employer  here,  and  we'll  lyncn 
him,"  said  Tracy.  "  Such  mean  treatment  of  a 
member  of  the  Madison  Club  should  meet  with  the 
severest  punishment.     Go  ahead." 

"  I  don't  think  I've  got  anything  more  to  say," 
said  Roswell.  "  As  my  head  doesn't  feel  just  right, 
I'll  sit  down." 

There  was  a  round  of  applause,  and  Wilmot  arose. 

"  Mr.  President,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  I  have  been 
very  much  impressed  with  the  remarks  of  the  gentle- 
man who  has  just  sat  down.  They  do  equal  credit 
to  his  head  and  his  heart.  His  reference  to  his 
salary  was  most  touching.  If  you  will  allow  me,  1 
will  pause  a  moment  and  wipe  away  an  unbidden 
tear."  (Here  amid  laughter  and  applause,  Wilmot 
made  an  imposing  demonstraticn  with  a  large  hand- 
kerchief. He  then  proceeded.)  "  Exouse  my  emo- 
tion, gentlemen.  I  merely  arose  to  make  the  motion 
that  the  gentleman  should  furnish  us  a  copy  of  his 


230  MAKK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

remarks,  that  they  may  be  engrossed  on  parchment, 
and  a  copy  sent  to  the  principal  libraries  in  Europe 
and  America." 

Roswell  was  hardly  in  a  condition  to  understand 
that  fun  was  being  made  of  him,  but  listened  sober- 
ly, sipping  from  time  to  time  from  his  glass. 

"The  motion  is  not  in  order,"  said  Brandon. 
*  The  hour  for  business  has  gone  by." 

The  punch  was  now  removed,  and  cards  were  pro- 
duced. The  remainder  of  the  evening  was  spent  in 
playing  euchre  and  other  games.  Roswell  took  a 
hand,  but  found  he  was  too  dizzy  to  play  correctly, 
and  for  the  remainder  of  the  evening  contented  him- 
self with  looking  on.  Small  snms  were  staked  among 
some  of  the  players,  and  thus  a  taste  for  gambling 
was  fostered  which  might  hereafter  lead  to  moral 
shipwreck  and  ruin. 

This  was  the  way  in  which  the  members  of  the 
Madison  Club  spent  their  evenings,  —  a  very  poor 
way,  as  my  young  readers  will  readily  acknowledge. 
I  heartily  approve  of  societies  organized  by  young 
people  for  debate  and  mutual  improvement.  They 
are  oftentimes  productive  of  great  good.  Seme  of 
our   distinguished  men  dite  their  first  impulse  t<? 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  231 

improve  and  advance  themselves  to  their  connection 
with  such  a  society.  But  the  Madison  Club  had  no 
salutary  object  in  view.  It  was  adapted  to  inspire 
a  taste  for  gambling  and  drinking,  and  the  money 
spent  by  the  members  to  sustain  it  was  worse  than 
wasted. 

Roswell,  however,  who  would  have  found  nothing 
to  interest  or  attract  him  in  a  Debating  Society,  was 
very  favorably  impressed  by  what  he  had  seen  of  the 
Madison  Club.  He  got  an  erroneous  impression 
that  it  was  likely  to  introduce  him  into  the  society 
of  gentlemen,  and  his  aristocratic  predilections  were, 
as  we  know,  one  of  Roswell's  hobbies. 

It  was  about  eleven  when  the  club  broke  up  ita 
meeting.  Previous  to  this  there  was  a  personal  diffi- 
culty between  Wilmot  and  Tracy,  which  resulted  in 
a  rough-and-tumble  fight,  in  which  Wilmot  got  the 
worst  of  it.  How  the  quarrel  arose  no  one  could 
remember, —  the  principals  least  of  all.  At  last  they 
were  reconciled,  and  were  persuaded  to  shake  hands. 

They  issued  into  the  street,  a  noisy  throng.  Ros- 
well's head  ached,  the  punch,  to  which  he  was  not 
accustomed,  having  affected  him  in  this  way.  Be- 
sides this  he  felt  a  little  dizzy. 


282  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY; 

"  I  wish  you'd  come  home  with  me,  Ralph,''  ha 
said  to  his  friend.     "  I  don't  feel  quite  right." 

"  Oh,  you'll  feel  all  right  to-morrow.  Your  head 
will  become  as  strong  as  mine  after  a  while.  I'm  as 
cool  as  a  cucumber." 

"  It's  rather  late,  isn't  it?  "  asked  Roswell. 

'*  Hark,  there's  the  clock  striking.  I'll  count 
the  strokes.  Eleven  o'clock  !  "  he  said,  after  count- 
ing.    "  That  isn't  very  late." 

Ralph  accompanied  Roswell  to  the  door  of  hia 
mother's  house  in  Clinton  Place. 

"  Good-night,  old  fellow  !  "  he  said.  "  You'll  be 
all  right  in  the  morning." 

"Good-night,"  said  Roswell. 

He  crept  up  to  bed,  but  his  brain  was  excited  by 
the  punch  he  had  drank,  and  it  was  only  after  toss- 
ing about  for  two  hours  that  he  at  length  sank  into 
a  troubled  sleep. 


OR,    AICllAItV   TIUS  rEll'S    WARD,  233 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

WHO    WAS   THE    THIEF? 

When  Roswell  rose  the  next  morning  he  felt 
cross  and  out  of  sorts.  His  head  still  ached  a  little, 
and  he  wished  he  w^re  not  obliged  to  go  to  the  store. 
But  it  was  out  of  the  question  to  remain  at  home,  so 
he  started  about  half  an  hour  after  the  usual  time, 
and  of  course  arrived  late. 

"  You  are  late  this  morning,"  said  Mr.  Baker. 
"  You  must  be  more  particular  about  being  here 
in  good  season." 

Roswell  muttered  something  about  not  feeling 
quite  well. 

Putting  his  hand  into  his  pocket  by  chance,  his 
fingers  came  in  contact  with  the  key  which  he  had 
made  to  open  the  cash  drawer.  Just  as  he  was  pass- 
ing Mark,  he  drew  it  out  and  let  it  drop  into  the 
side-pocket  of  his  jacket.  So,  if  suspicion  were  ex- 
cited,  the  key  would  be  found  on  Mark,  not  on  him 


234  MARK.    TI1K   MATCH  BOY; 

The  critical  moment  came  sooner  than  he  had  an> 
ticipated. 

A  Mr.  Gay,  one  of  the  regular  customers  of  the 
bookstore,  entered  a  few  minutes  later. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Baker,"  he  aaid.  "Have 
you  got  a  £  Tribune  '  this  morning?  " 

"Yes,  here  is  one.  By  the  way,  you  are  just 
the  man  I  Avanted  to  see." 

"  Indeed,  I  feel  complimented." 

"  Wait  till  you  hear  what  I  am  going  to  say.  You 
bought  a  copy  of  '  Corinne'  here  on  Monday  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  handed  me  a  five-dollar  bill  on  the  Park 
Bank  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  find  the  bill  was  a  skilfully  executed 
counterfeit." 

"Indeed  !  I  didn't  examine  it  very  closely.  But 
I  know  where  I  took  it,  and  will  give  you  a  good  bill 
in  exchange  for  it." 

"  I  locked  it  up  lest  it  should  get  out,  '  said  Mr. 
Baker. 

He  went  to  the  drawer  which  Roswell  had  opened 
Roswell  listened  to  this   conversation  with  dismay 


OR,    RIC/IARD   HVXTER'S    WARD.  235 

He  realized  that  he  was  in  a  tight  place,  for  it  waa 
undoubtedly  the  five-dollar  counterfeit  which  he  had 
taken,  and  paid  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Madison 
Club.  He  awaited  nervously  the  result  of  Mr. 
Baker's  examination. 

"  Don't  you  find  it?"  asked  Mr.  Gay. 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  said  Mr.  Baker.  "  I  placed 
it  at  the  top  of  a  pile  of  bills,  and  now  it  ia 
gone." 

"  Look  through  the  pile.  Perhaps  your  memory 
is  at  fault,"  said  Mr.  Gay. 

Mr.  Baker  did  so. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  the  bill  has  disappeared." 

"  Do  you  miss  anything  else  ?  " 

"  No.     The  money  is  just  five  dollars  short." 

"  Perhaps  you  forget  yourself,  and  paid  it  away  to 
a  customer." 

"Impossible;  I  always  make  change  out  of  this 
drawer." 

"  "Well,  when  you  find  it,  I  will  make  it  right.  I 
am  in  a  hurry  this  morning." 

Mr.  Gay  went  out. 

"Has  any  one  been  to  this  drawer?'1  inquired 
Mr.  Baker,  abruptly. 


236  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY; 

"  You  always  keep  it  locked,  —  do  you  not?  "  said 
Mr.  Jones. 

"  And  keep  the  key  myself.     Yes." 

"Then  I  don't  see  how  it  could  have  beeo 
opened." 

"  There  was  nothing  peculiar  about  the  lock. 
There  might  easily  be  another  key  to  fit  it." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  suspect  me,  Mr.  Baker  ?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Jones,  you  have  been  with  me  five 
years,  and  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  you." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  suspect  me,  sir,"  said  Roswell, 
boldly.  "I  am  willing  to  turn  my  pockets  inside- 
out,  to  show  that  I  have  no  key  that  will  fit  the 
lock." 

t,t  "Very  well.     You  may  do  so." 

Roswell  turned  his  pockets  inside-out,  but  of 
course  no  key  was  found. 

"  How  lucky  I  got  rid  of  it !  "  he  thought. 

"  Now  it's  your  turn,  Mark,"  he  said. 

"I'm  perfectly  willing,"  said  Mark,  promptly. 

lie  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and,  to  liia 
unutterable  astonishment  and  dismay,  drew  out  a 
key. 


OK,    RICHARD   HUNTER' S    WARD.  237 

"  I  didn't  know  I  had  this  in  my  pocket/1  he  said, 
startled. 

"  Hand  me  that  key,"  said  Mr.  Baker,  sternly. 

Mark  handed  it  to  him  mechanically. 

Mr.  Baker  went  behind  the  counter,  and  fitted  the 
key  in  the  bck.  It  proved  to  open  the  drawer  with 
ease. 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  key  ?  "  he  said. 

"  I  didn't  know  I  had  it,  sir,"  said  Mark,  earnest 
ly.     '  I  hope  you  will  believe  me." 

"  I  don't  understand  how  you  can  hope  anything 
of  the  kind.  It  seems  very  clear  that  you  have  been 
at  my  drawer,  and  taken  the  missing  money.  When 
did  you  take  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  opened  the  drawer,  nor  taken  your 
money,"  said  Mark,  in  a  firm  voice,  though  his 
cheek  was  pale,  and  his  look  was  troubled. 

"I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  do  not  believe  you," 
said  Mr.  Baker,  coldly.  "  Once  more,  when  did 
you  take  the  five  dollars?  " 

"  I  did  not  take  it  at  all,  sir." 

"  Havu  you  lent  the  key  to  any  one  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.     I  did  nof,  know  I  had  it." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do  in  the  matter,"  said  the 


238  MJBK,    THE   MATCH   BO. \, 

bookseller,  turning  to  Mr.  Jones,  his  assistant.  "It 
seems  clear  to  me  that  the  boy  took  the  missing 
bill." 

"I  am  afraid  so,"  said  Jones,  who  was  a  kind- 
hearted  man,  and  pitied  Mark.  "  But  I  don't  know 
when  he  could  have  had  the  chance.  He  is  never 
left  alone  in  the  store." 

"Roswell,"  said  Mr.  Baker,  "have  you  left 
Mark  alone  in  the  store  at  any  time  within  two  or 
three  days  ?  ' ' 

Roswell  saw  the  point  of  the  inquiry,  and  deter- 
mined, as  a  measure  of  safety,  to  add  falsehood  to 
his  former  offence. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  said,  in  an  apologetic  tone,  "  I  left 
him  in  the  store  for  two  or  three  minutes  yester- 
day." 

"  Why  did  you  leave  him?  Did  you  go  out  of 
the  store?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  A  friend  was  passing,  and  I  went  out 
to  speak  to  him.  I  don't  think  I  stayed  more  thao 
two  or  three  minutes." 

"  And  Mark  was  left  alone  in  the  store? " 

"  Yes,  sir  I  had  no  idea  that  any  harm  would 
come  of  it." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER* $    WARD.  239 


Mark  looked  intently  at  Roswell  when  he  uttered 
this  falsehood. 

"  You  had  better  confess,  Mark,  that  you  took  the 
money  when  Roswell  was  out  of  the  store,"  said  his 
employer.  "If  you  make  a  full  confession,  I  will 
be  as  lenient  with  you  as  I  can,  considering  your 
youth." 

"Mr.  Baker,"  said  Mark,  quietly,  more  at  his 
ease  now,  since  he  began  to  understand  that  there 
was  a  plot  against  him,  "  I  cannot  confess  what  is 
not  true.  I  don't  know  what  Roswell  means  by  what 
he  has  just  said,  but  I  was  not  left  alone  in  the 
store  for  a  moment  all  day  yesterday,  nor  did  Ros- 
well go  out  to  speak  to  a  friend  while  I  was 
about." 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  conflict  of  evidence  here," 
said  Mr.  Baker. 

"I  hope  the  word  of  a  gentleman's  son  is  worth 
more  than  that  of  a  match  boy,"  said  Roswell, 
haughtily. 

"To  whom  do  you  refer,  when  you  speak  of  a 
match  boy?  " 

"To  him"  said  Roswell,  pointing  to  Mark 
"  He  used  to  be  a  vagabond  boy  about  the  streets. 


240  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

selling  matches,  and  sleeping  anywhere  he  could 
No  wonder  he  steals." 

"  I  never  stole  in  my  life,"  said  Mark,  indignant- 
ly. "  It  is  true  that  I  sold  matches  about  the  streets, 
and  I  should  have  been  doing  it  now,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  my  meeting  with  kind  friends." 

"  As  to  his  having  been  a  match  boy,  that  has  uc 
bearing  upon  the  question,"  said  Mr.  Baker.  "It 
is  the  discovery  of  the  key  in  his  pocket  that  throws 
the  gravest  suspicion  upon  him.  I  must  see  hia 
friends,  and  inquire  into  the  matter." 

"  Of  course  they  will  stand  by  him,"  said  Ros- 
well. 

"  We  may  get  some  light  thrown  upon  his  posses- 
sion of  the  key,  at  any  rate,  and  can  judge  for  our- 
selves." 

"  I  shall  keep  you  employed  until  this  matter  is 
investigated,"  said  Mr.  Baker  to  Mark.  "  Here  is  a 
parcel  of  books  to  be  carried  to  Twenty-Seventh 
Street.     Come  back  as  soon  as  they  are  delivered." 

Mark  went  out  with  a  heavy  heart,  for  it  troubled 
him  to  think  he  was  under  suspicion.  Theft,  too,  he 
had  always  despised.  He  wondered  if  Richard 
Hunter  would  believe   him   guilty.     He  could  not 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER' S    WARD.  241 

bear  to  think  that  so  kind  a  friend  should  think  so  ill 
of  him 

But  Mark's  vindication  was  not  long  in  coming. 
He  had  been  out  scarcely  ten  minutes  when  Roswell, 
on  looking  up,  saw  to  his  dismay  Tracy,  the  secre- 
tary of  the  Madison  Club,  entering  the  store.  Hia 
heart  misgave  him  as  to  the  nature  of  the  business 
on  which  he  had  probably  come. 

He  went  forward  hastily  to  meet  him. 

"  How  are  you,  Crawford?  "  said  Tracy. 

"  Pretty  well.  I  am  very  busy  now.  I  will  see 
you,  after  the  store  closes,  anywhere  you  please." 

"  Oh,"  said  Tracy,  in  a  voice  loud  enough  for  Mr. 
Baker  to  hear,  "it  won't  take  a  minute.  The  bill 
you  gave  me  last  night  was  a  bad  one.  Of  course 
you  didn't  know  it." 

Roswell  turned  red  and  pale,  and  hoped  Mr. 
Baker  did  not  hear.  But  Mr.  Baker  had  caught 
the  words,  and  came  forward. 

"  Show  me  the  bill,  if  you  please,  young  gentle- 
man," he  said.  "I  have  a  good  reason  for  ack 
ing" 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  said   Tracy,   rather  surprised 
"  Here  it  is." 
16 


242  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY / 

A  moment's  glance  satisfied  Mr.  Baker  that  it  wan 
the  missing  bill, 

"  Did  Roswell  pay  you  this  bill  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  For  what  did  he  owe  it?  " 

' :  I  am  the  secretary  of  the  Madison  Club,  and 
thi3  was  paid  as  the  entrance  fee." 

"1  recognize  the  bill,"  said  Mr.  Baker.  "I  will 
take  it,  if  you  please,  and  you  can  look  to  him  for 
another." 

"Very  well,"  said  Tracy,  puzzled  by  the  worda, 
the  motive  of  which  he  did  not  understand. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  explain  this,"  said  Mr.  Baker, 
turning  to  Roswell.  "It  seems  that  you  took  this 
bill." 

Roswell's  cofidence  deserted  him,  and  he  *tood 
pale  and  downcast. 

"  The  key  I  presume,  belonged  to  you." 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  ejaculated,  with  difficulty. 

;<  And  you  dropped  it  into  Mark's  pocket,  —  thug 
meanly  trying  to  implicate  him  in  a  theft  whict  yov 
bad  yourself  committed." 

Roswell  was  silent. 

"  Uave  you  taken  money  before? " 


OR,    RICHARD   nUNTER'S    WARD.  245 

"  I  never  opened  the  drawer  but  once." 

"  That  was  not  my  question.  Make  a  full  con- 
fession, and  I  will  not  have  you  arrested,  but  shall 
require  you  to  make  restitution  of  all  the  sums  you 
have  stolen.  I  shall  not  include  this  bill,  as  it  is 
now  returned  to  my  possession.  Here  is  a  piece  of 
paper.     Write  down  the  items." 

Roswell  did  so.  They  footed  up  a  little  over  six 
dollars. 

Mr.  Baker  examined  it. 

"  Is  this  all  ?  "  he  said. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Half  a  week's  wages  are  due  you,  I  will  therefore 
deduct  three  dollars  from  this  amount.  The  re- 
mainder I  shall  expect  you  to  refund.  I  shall  have 
no  lurther  occasion  for  your  services." 

Roswell  took  his  cap,  and  was  about  to  leave  the 
store. 

"  Wait  a  few  minutes.  You  have  tried  to  impli- 
cate Mark  in  your  theft.  You  must  wait  till  his 
return,  and  apologize  to  him  for  what  you  have 
attempted  to  do.'; 

"  Must  I  dc  this?  "  asked  Roswell,  ruefully. 

1 '  You  must,  '  said  Mr.  Baker,  firmly. 


244  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY ; 

When  Mark  came  in,  and  was  told  how  he  had 
been  cleared  of  suspicion,  he  felt  very  happy.  Ros- 
well  made  the  apology  dictated  to  him,  with  a  very 
bad  grace,  and  then  was  permitted  to  leave  the  store. 

At  home  he  tried  to  hide  the  circumstances  at- 
tending his  discharge  from  his  mother  and  his 
cousin;  but  the  necessity  of  refunding  the  money 
made  that  impossible. 

It  was  only  a  few  days  afterwards  that  Mrs. 
Crawford  received  a  letter,  informing  her  of  the  death 
of  a  brother  in  Illinois,  and  that  he  had  left  her  a 
small  house  and  farm.  She  had  found  it  so  hard  a 
struggle  for  a  livelihood  in  the  city,  that  she  decided 
to  remove  thither,  greatly  to  Roswell's  disgust,  who 
did  not  wish  to  be  immured  in  the  country.  But 
his  wishes  could  not  be  gratified,  and,  sulky  and  dis- 
contented, he  was  obliged  to  leave  the  choice  society 
of  the  Madison  Club,  and  the  attractions  of  New 
York,  for  the  quiet  of  a  country  town.  Let  us 
hope  that,  away  from  the  influences  of  the  city,  his 
character  may  be  improved,  and  become  more  manly 
and  self-reliant.  It  is  only  just  to  say  that  he  waa 
led  to  appropriate  what  did  not  belong  to  him,  by  the 
desire  to  gratify  his  vanity,  and  through  the  influ- 


OR.    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  245 

ence  of  a  bad  adviser.  If  he  can  ever  forget  tha\ 
he  is  a  the  son  of  a  gentleman,"  I  shall  have  some 
hopes  for  him 


246  HARK.    THE   MATCH  BOY! 


CHAPTER  XXIT. 

AN    EXCURSION   TO    FORT   HAMILTON. 

Towards  the  close  of  May  there  was  a  genera) 
holiday,  occasioned  by  the  arrival  of  a  distinguished 
stranger  in  the  city.  All  the  store3  were  to  be 
closed,  there  was  to  be  a  turnout  of  the  military, 
and  a  long  procession.  Among  those  released  from 
duty  were  our  three  friends,  Fosdick,  Richard  Hun 
ter,  and  his  ward  Mark. 

"  Well,  Dick,  what  are  you  going  to  do  to-mor- 
row? "  inquired  Fosdick,  on  the  evening  previous. 

"  I  was  expecting  an  invitation  to  ride  in  & 
barouche  with  the  mayor,"  said  Richard ;  "  but  prob- 
ably he  forgot  my  address  and  couldn't  send  it.  On 
the  whole  I'm  glad  of  it,  being  rather  bashful  and 
not  used  to  popular  enthusiasm." 

"  Shall  you  go  out  and  see  the  procession  ?  "  con- 
tinued Fosdick. 


OR,    AI  CHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  247 

•'No,"  said  Dick;  "I  have  been  thinking  of 
another  plan,  which  I  think  will  be  pleasanter." 

"What  is  it?" 

"It's  a  good  while  since  we  took  an  excursion. 
Suppose  we  go  to  Fort  Hamilton  to-morrow." 

"I  should  like  that,"  said  Fosdick.  "I  waa 
never  there.     How  do  we  get  there  ?  " 

"  Cross  over  Fulton  Ferry  to  Brooklyn,  and  there 
we  might  take  the  cars  to  Fort  Hamilton.  It's 
seven  or  eight  miles  out  there." 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  might '  take  the  cars?  " 

"  Because  the  cars  will  be  crowTded  with  excur 
sionists,  and  I  have  been  thinking  we  might  hire  a 
carriage  on  the  Brooklyn  side,  and  ride  out  there  in 
style.  It'll  cost  more  money,  but  we  don't  often 
take  a  holiday,  and  we  can  afford  it  for  once.  What 
you  do  say,  Mark?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  me  to  go?  "  asked  Mark,  eagerly. 

"  Of  course  I  do.  Do  you  think  your  guardian 
would  trust  you  to  remain  in  the  city  alone  ? ' ' 

"I  go  in  for  your  plan,  Dick,"    said  Fosdick 
'  What  time  do  you  want  to  start  ?  " 

"  About  half-past  nine  o'clock.  That  will  give 
us  plenty  of  time  to  go.     Then,  after  exploring  the 


248  MARK,    THE  MATCH   HOT  J 

fort,  we  can  get  dinner  at  the  hotel,  and  drive  where 
we  please  afterwards.  I  suppose  there  is  sea-bathing 
near  by." 

Dick's  idea  was  unanimously  approved,  and  by  no 
one  more  than  by  Mark.  Holidays  had  been  few 
and  far  between  with  him,  and  he  anticipated  the  ex- 
cursion with  the  most  eager  delight.  He  was  only 
afraid  that  the  weather  would  prove  unpropitious. 
He  was  up  at  four,  looking  out  of  the  window  ;  but 
the  skies  were  clear,  and  soon  the  sun  came  out 
with  full  radiance,  dissipating  the  night-shadows,  and 
promising  a  glorious  day. 

Breakfast  was  later  than  usual,  a3  people  like  to  in- 
dulge themselves  in  a  little  longer  sleep  on  Sundays 
and  holidays ;  but  it  was  over  by  half-past  eight,  and 
within  a  few  minutes  from  that  time  the  three  had 
taken  the  cars  to  Fulton  Ferry. 

In  about  half  an  hour  the  ferry  was  reached,  and, 
passing  through,  the  party  went  on  board  the  boat. 
They  had  scarcely  done  so,  when  an  exclamation  of 
surprise  was  heard,  proceeding  from  feminine  lips, 
and  Dick  heard  himself  called  by  name. 

"Why,  Mr.  Hunter,  this  is  an  unexpected  pleas 
ure.     I  am  so  glad  to  have  met  you.': 


Off,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  249 

Turning  his  head,  Dick  recognized  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Clifton.  Both  had  been  fellow-boarders  with  him  in 
Bleecker  Street.  The  latter  will  be  remembered  by 
the  readers  of  "Fame  and  Fortune  "  as  Miss  Pey- 
ton. When  close  upon  the  verge  of  old-maidenhood 
3he  had  been  married,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  thousand 
dollars  which  she  possessed,  by  Mr.  Clifton,  a  clerk 
on  a  small  salary,  in  constant  pecuniary  difficulties. 
With  a  portion  of  his  wife's  money  he  had  purchased 
a  partnership  in  a  dry-goods  store  on  Eighth  Avenue ; 
but  the  remainder  of  her  money  Mrs.  Clifton  had 
been  prudent  enough  to  have  settled  upon  her- 
self. 

Mrs.  Clifton  still  wore  the  same  ringlets,  and  ex- 
hibited the  same  youthful  vivacity  which  had  char- 
acterized her  when  an  inmate  of  Mrs.  Browning's 
boarding-house,  and  only  owned  to  being  twenty- 
four,  though  she  looked  full  ten  years  older. 

"How  d'e  do,  Hunter?"  drawled  Mr.  Clifton, 
upon  whose  arm  his  wife  was  leaning. 

"Very  well,  thank  you,"  said  Dick.  "I  see 
Mrs.  Clifton  is  as  fascinating  as  ever." 

"  0  you  wicked  flatterer  !  "  said  Mrs.  Clifton, 
shaking  her  ringlets,  and  tapping  Dick  on  the  shoul 


250  MARK,    THE    MATCH   BO t , 

der  with  her  fan.  "  And  here  is  Mr.  Fosdick  too, 
J  declare.     How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Fosdick  ?  " 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Clifton." 

"I  declare  I've  a  great  mind  to  scold  you  for  not 
coming  round  to  see  us.  I  should  so  much  like  to 
tear  you  sing  again." 

"My  friend  hasn't  sung  since  your  marriage. 
Mrs.  Clifton,"  said  Dick.  "  He  took  it  very  much 
to  heart.  I  don't  think  he  has  forgiven  Clifton  yet 
for  cutting  him  out." 

"  Mr.  Hunter  is  speaking  for  himself,"  said  Fos- 
dick, smiling.      "  He  has  sung  as  little  as  I  have." 

"  Yes,  but  for  another  reason,"  said  Dick.  "I 
did  not  think  it  right  to  run  the  risk  of  driving 
iway  the  boarders;  so,  out  of  regard  to  my  land- 
lady, I  repressed  my  natural  tendency  to  war- 
ble." 

"I  see  you're  just  as  bad  as  ever,"  said  Mrs. 
Clifton,  in  excellent  spirits.  "  But  really  you  must 
c:>me  round  and  see  us.  We  are  boarding  in  West 
Sixteenth  Street,  between  Eighth  and  Ninth  Ave- 
Dver." 

"  If  your  husband  will  promise  not  to  be  jealous  " 
s/vid  D.'ck 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  251 

11  I'm  not  subject  to  that  complaint,"  said  Clifton, 
coolly      "  Got  a  cigar  about  you,  Hunter?  " 

•'No.  I  don't  smoke." 

"  No,  don't  you  though  ?  I  couldn't  get  along 
without  it.     It's  my  great  comfort." 

"Yes,  he's  always  smoking,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton, 
with  some  asperity.  "  Our  rooms  are  so  full  of 
tobacco  smoke,  that  I  don't  know  but  some  of  my 
friends  will  begin  to  think  I  smoke  myself." 

"  A  man  must  have  some  pleasure,"  said  Clifton, 
not  appearing  to  be  much  discomposed  by  his  wife's 
remarks. 

It  may  be  mentioned  that  although  Mrs.  Clifton 
was  always  gay  and  vivacious  in  company,  there 
were  times  when  she  could  display  considerable  ill- 
temper,  as  her  husband  frequently  had  occasion  to 
know.  Among  the  sources  of  difficulty  and  disa- 
greement was  that  portion  of  Mrs.  Clifton's  fortune 
which  had  been  settled  upon  herself,  and  of  which 
ihe  was  never  willing  to  allow  her  husband  the  use 
Df  a  single  dollar.  In  this,  however,  she  had  some 
justification,  as  ne  was  naturally  a  spendthrift,  and. 
if  placed  in  his  hands,  it  would  soon  have  melted 
away. 


2b2  MAIiK,    THE   MATCH   UVi; 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Mr.  Hunter  ? ' '  inquired 
Mrs   Clifton,  after  a  pause. 

"  Fosdick  and  I  have  planned  to  take  a  carriage 
and  ride  to  Fort  Hamilton." 

"  Delightful !  "  said  Mrs.  Clifton.  "  Why  can't 
we  go  too,  Mr.  Clifton?" 

"  Why,  to  tell  the  plain  truth,"  said  her  husband, 
"  I  haven't  got  money  enough  with  me.  If  you'll 
pay  for  the  carriage,  I'm  willing  to  go." 

Mrs.  Clifton  hesitated.  She  had  money  enough 
with  her,  but  was  not  inclined  to  spend  it.  Still  the 
prospect  of  making  a  joint  excursion  with  Richard 
Hunter  and  Fosdick  was  attractive,  and  she  in- 
quired :  — 

" How  much  will  it  cost?  " 

"  About  live  dollars  probably." 

"Then  I  think  we'll  go,"  she  said,  "that  is,  if 
our  company  would  not  be  disagreeable  to  Mr.  Hun- 
ter." 

"On  the  contrary,"  said  Dick.  "We  will  get 
separate  carriages,  but  I  will  invite  you  both  to  dine 
with  us  after  visiting  the  fort." 

Mr.  Clifton  brightened  up  at  this,  and  straightway 
became  more  social  and  cheerful. 


©J?,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  253 

"  Mrs.  Clifton,"  said  Richard  Hunter,  £i  I  believe 
I  haven't  yet  introduced  you  to  my  ward." 

"Is  that  your  ward  ?  "  inquired  the  lady,  lock- 
tog  towards  Mark.     "  What  is  his  name?  " 

11  Mark  Manton." 

<:  How  do  you  like  your  guardian?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Clifton. 

"  Very  much,"  said  Mark,  smiling. 

"  Then  I  won't  expose  him,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton. 
"  We  used  to  be  great  friends  before  I  married." 

"  Since  that  sad  event  I  have  never  recovered  my 
spirits,"  said  Dick.  "  Mark  will  tell  you  what  a 
poor  appetite  I  have." 

"  Is  that  true,  Mark?  "  asked  the  lady. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  very  poor,"  said  Mark,  with 
a  smile. 

Probably  my  readers  will  not  consider  this  con- 
versation very  brilliant ;  but  Mrs.  Clifton  was  a  sill  v 
woman,  who  was  fond  of  attention,  and  was  incapa- 
ble of  talking  sensibly.  Richard  would  have  pre- 
ferred not  to  have  her  husband  or  herself  in  the 
company,  but,  finding  it  inevitable,  submitted  to  it 
With  as  good  a  grace  as  possible. 

Carriages  were  secured  at  a  neighboring  stably 


254  MARK)    THJt   MATCH   £OT; 

and  the  two  parties  started.  The  drive  we*s  found  to 
be  very  pleasant,  particularly  the  latter  portion,  when 
a  fresh  breeze  from  the  sea  made  the  air  delightfully 
cool.  As  they  drove  up  beside  the  fort,  they  heard 
the  band  within,  playing  a  march,  and,  giving  their 
horses  in  charge,  they  were  soon  exploring  the  inte- 
rior. The  view  from  the  ramparts  proved  to  be  fine, 
commanding  a  good  view  of  the  harbor  and  the  city 
of  New  York,  nearly  eight  miles  distant  to  the 
north. 

"  It  is  a  charming  view,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton,  with 
girlish  enthusiasm. 

"  I  know  what  will  be  more  charming,"  said  her 
husband. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  A  prospect  of  the  dinner-table.  I  feel  awfully 
hungry." 

"Mr.  Clifton  never  thinks  of  anything  but  eat- 
ing," said  his  wife. 

"  By  Jove  !  you  can  do  your  share  at  that,"  re- 
torted her  husband  not  very  gallantly.  "  You'd 
ought  to  see  her  eat,  Hunter." 

"  I  don't  eat  more  than  a  little  bird,"  said  Mrs 
Clifton,  affectedly.     "  I  appeal  to  Mr.  Hunter." 


OR,    RICHARD    nVNTER  S    WARD.  253 

u  If  any  little  bird  ate  as  much  as  you,  he'd 
\<e  sure  to  die  of  dyspepsy"  said  her  husband.  If 
the  word  in  italics  is  incorrectly  spelled,  I  am  not 
responsible,  as  that  is  the  way  Mr  Clifton  pro- 
nounced it. 

"  I  confess  the  ride  has  given  me  an  appetite 
also,"  said  Dick.  "  Suppose  we  go  round  to  the 
hotel,  and  order  dinner." 

They  were  soon  seated  round  a  bountifully  spread 
dinner-table,  to  which  the  whole  party,  not  except- 
ing Mrs.  Clifton,  did  excellent  justice.  It  will  not 
be  necessary  or  profitable  to  repeat  the  conversation 
which  seasoned  the  repast,  as,  out  of  deference  to 
Mrs.  Clifton's  taste,  none  of  the  party  ventured  upon 
any  sensible  remarks. 

After  dinner  they  extended  their  drive,  and  then 
parted,  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifton  decided  to  make  a 
call  upon  some  friends  living  in  the  neighborhood. 

About  four  o'clock  Richard  Hunter  and  his  friends 
started  on  their  return  home.  They  had  about 
reached  the  Brooklyn  city  line,  when  Fosdick  sud- 
denly exclaimed :  — 

"  Dick,  there's  a  carriage  overturned  a  little  way? 
ahead  of  us.     Do  you  see  it?  " 


256  MAIl-K,    THE   MATCH   BOY ; 

Looking  in  the  direction  indicated,  Dick  saw  th*l 
Fjsdick  was  correct. 

"Let  us  hurry  on,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps  we  may 
be  able  to  render  some  assistance." 

Coming  up,  they  found  that  a  wheel  had  come  off, 
and  a  gentleman  of  middle  age  was  leaning  againsf 
a  tree  with  an  expression  of  pain  upon  his  features, 
while  a  boy  of  about  seventeen  was  holding  the 
horse. 

"Frank  Whitney!"  exclaimed  Dick,  in  joyful 
recognition. 

To  Frank  Whitney  Dick  was  indebted  for  the 
original  impulse  which  led  him  to  resolve  upon 
gaining  a  respectable  position  in  society,  as  will  be 
remembered  by  the  readers  of  "  Ragged  Dick ;  "  and 
for  this  he  had  always  felt  grateful. 

"  Dick  !  "  exclaimed  Frank,  in  equal  surprise, 
"lam  really  glad  to  see  you.  You  are  a  friend  in 
aeed." 

"  Tell  me  what  has  happened." 

"  The  wheel  of  our  carriage  came  off,  as  you  see 
Mid  my  uncle  was  pitched  out  with  considerable 
violence,  and  has  sprained  his  ankle  badly.  I  wad 
wondering  what  to  do,  when  luckily  you  came  up." 


OK,    RICnARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  257 

**  Tell  me  how  I  can  help  you,"  said  Dick,  prompt- 
ly, "and  I  will  do  so." 

"We  are  stopping  at  the  house  of  a  friend  in 
Brooklyn.  If  you  will  give  my  uncle  a  seat  in  youi 
carryall,  for  he  is  una^ie  to  walk,  and  carry  him 
there,  it  will  be  a  greaT  favor.  I  will  remain  and 
attend  to  the  horse  and  carriage." 

"  With  pleasure,  Frank.  Are  you  going  to  re- 
main in  this  neighborhood  long?  " 

"  I  shall  try  to  gain  admission  to  the  sophomore 
class  of  Columbia  College  this  summer,  and  shall 
then  live  in  New  York,  where  I  hope  to  see  you 
often.  I  intended  to  enter  last  year,  but  decided  for 
some  reasons  to  delay  a  year.  However,  if  I  am  ad- 
mitted to  advanced  standing,  I  shall  lose  nothing. 
Give  me  your  address,  and  I  will  call  on  you  very 
soon." 

"I  am  afraid  I  shall  inconvenience  you,"  said 
Mr.  Whitney. 

.  "  Not  at  all,"  said  Dick,  promptly.  "We  have 
plenty  of  room,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  an  op- 
portunity of  obliging  one  to  whom  I  am  indebted 
for  past  kindness." 

Mr.  Whitney  was  assisted  into  the  carriage,  and 


258  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY. 

they  resumed  their  drive,  deviating  from  theii 
course  somewhat,  in  order  to  leave  him  at  the  houso 
of  the  friend  with  whom  he  was  stopping. 

"I  am   very  glad    to    have  met  Frank  again," 
thought  Dick :    "I  always  liked  hha." 


OX.    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  259 


CHAPTER     XXV. 

AN  IMPORTANT  DISCOVERT. 

Mark  remained  in  the  bookstore  on  the  same 
footing  as  before.  lie  was  not  old  enough  to  suc- 
ceed to  R. swell's  vacant  place,  but  Mr.  Baker,  as  a 
mark  of  ha  satisfaction  with  him,  and  partly  also  to 
compensate  for  the  temporary  suspicions  which  he 
had  entertained  of  his  honesty,  advanced  his  wages  a 
dollar  a  weei.  He  therefore  now  received  four  dol- 
lars, which  yielded  him  no  little  satisfaction,  as  it 
enabled  him  to  pay  a  larger  share  of  his  expenses. 

They  were  all  seated  in  Richard  Hunter's  pleasant 
room  in  St.  Mark's  Place  one  evening,  when  Dick 
said    suddenly  :  — 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  Fosdick,  I  forgot  to  tell  yo« 
tt  at  I  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Bates  to-day." 

"  Did  you  ?     What  does  he  say  ?  " 

"  I  will  read  it  to  you." 


?fiO  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY; 

Richard  drew  the  letter  from  the  envelope,  and 
read  as  follows :  — 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Hunter  :  —  I  have  received  your  letter, 
reporting  that  you  have  as  yet  obtained  no  trace  of  my  unfor- 
tunate grandson,  John  Talbot.  I  thank  you  sincerely  for  your 
kind  and  persistent  efforts.  I  fear  that  he  may  have  left  New 
York,  possibly  in  the  care  of  persons  unfit  to  take  charge  of 
him.  It  is  a  great  source  of  anxiety  to  me  lest  he  should  be 
suffering  privation  and  bad  treatment  at  this  moment,  wh^n  I, 
his  grandfather,  have  abundance  of  worldly  means,  and  have  it 
in  my  power  to  rear  him  handsomely.  I  cannot  help  tr.eling 
that  it  is  a  fitting  punishment  for  the  cruel  harshness  wit? 
which  I  treated  his  mother.  Now  I  am  amassing  wealtl 
but  I  have  no  one  to  leave  it  to.  I  feel  that  I  have  sraa. 
object  in  living.  Yet  I  cannot  give  up  the  thought  that  mj 
grandson  is  still  living.  I  cannot  help  indulging  the  hope 
that  some  day,  by  the  kind  favor  of  Providence,  he  may  bf 
given  back  to  me. 

"  If  it  will  not  be  too  much  trouble  to  you  and  Mr.  Fos 
dick,  I  shall  feel  indebted  if  you  will  still  continue  on  the 
watch  for  the  lost  boy.  Any  expenses  which  you  maj 
Incur,  as  I  have  already  assured  you,  will  be  most  cheer 
Tally  paid  by  your  obliged  friend  and  servant, 

"  Hiram  Bates.' 

While    Kichard  was  reading  this  letter,  Mark  iiv. 
teued  attentively.   Looking  up,  Richard  observed  this 


OR,    RICHARD   BUXTER'S    WARD.  261 

"  Did  you  ever  meet  with  a  boy  named  John 
Talbot.  Mark?"  he  inquired. 

"  No,"  said  Mark,  "  not  John  Talbot." 

"  Did  you  ever  meet  any  boy  named  Talbot ! 
It  is  not  certain  that  the  name  is  John." 

"  Talbot  used  to  be  my  name,"  said  Mark. 

"  Used  to  be  your  name  !  "  exclaimed  Richard,  in 
surprise.      "  I  thought  it  was  Manton." 

"  Some  of  the  boys  gave  me  that  name,  because 
there  was  a  story  came  out  in  one  of  the  story  papers 
about  Mark  Manton.  After  a  while  I  got  to  calling 
myself  so,  but  my  real  name  is  Mark  Talbot." 

"It  would  be  strange  if  he  should  turn  out  to 
be  the  right  boy  after  all,  Dick,"  said  Fosdick. 
"  Where  is  the  photograph  ?  That  will  soon  settle 
the  question." 

Richard  Hunter  opened  his  desk,  and  took  out  the 
card  photograph  which  Mr.  Bates  had  left  with  him. 

"  Mark,"  he  said,  "  did  you  ever  see  any  one  wh« 
looked  like  that  picture?" 

Mark  took  the  picture  in  his  hand.  No  sooner 
did  liis  eyes  rest  upon  it  than  they  filled  with  tears. 

"  That  is  my  mother  '  he  said.  "  Where  did  yoa 
get  it  ?  " 


262  MARK,    THE   MATCH  BOY; 

"  Your  mother  !     Are  you  sure?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  should  know  it  anywhere,  though  i*. 
\ooks  younger  than  she  did." 

"  Do  you  know  what  her  name  was,  before  she 
was  married  ?  " 

"Yes;  she  has  told  me  often.  It  was  Irene 
Bates." 

"How  strange !  "  exclaimed  Richard  and  Fosdick 
together.  "Mark,"  continued  Richard,  "I  think 
you  are  the  very  boy  I  had  been  in  search  of  for 
several  months.  I  had  succeeded  without  know- 
ing it." 

"Please  tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Mark.  "I 
don't  understand." 

"  I  have  a  great  piece  of  good  luck  to  announce 
to  you,  Mark.  Your  grandfather  is  a  rich  man, 
formerly  in  business  in  New  York,  but  now  a  suc- 
cessful merchant  in  Milwaukie.  He  has  no  child, 
no  descendant  except  yourself.  He  has  been  anx 
iously  seeking  for  you,  intending  to  give  you  all  the 
advantages  which  his  wealth  can  procure." 

"  Do  you  think  I  shall  like  him  ?  "  asked  Mark, 
timidly. 

"  Yes ;  I  think  he  will  be  very  kind  to  you.''* 


CWf,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  263 

"  But  he  was  not  kind  to  my  mother.  Although 
he  was  rich,  he  let  her  suffer." 

"  He  has  repented  of  this,  and  will  try  to  make 
op  to  you  his  neglect  to  your  mother." 

Mark  was  still  thoughtful.  "If  it  had  come 
sooner,  my  poor  mother  might  still  have  been  alive," 
he  said. 

"  I  think  I  had  better  telegraph  to  Mr.  Bates 
to-morrow,"  said  Richard.  "  The  news  will  be  so 
welcome  that  I  don't  like  to  keep  it  back  a  single 
day." 

"  Perhaps  it  will  be  better,"  said  Fosdick.  "  You 
will  have  to  give  up  your  ward,  Dick." 

"  Yes ;  but  as  it  will  be  for  his  good,  I  will  not 
object." 

The  next  morning  the  following  message  was 
flashed  over  the  wires  to  Milwaukie :  — 

M  Hiram  Bates. 
"  Your  grandson  Is  found.    He  Is  well,  and  In  my  charge 

"  Richard  Hunter." 

In  the  course  of  the  forenoon,  the  following 
answer  was  received  :  — 


£64  MARK.    THE  MATCH  BOJ ,' 

"  Richard  IIuntkr. 

"How  can  I  thank  you!  I  take  the  next  train  for  T.en 
fork. 

"  Hiram  Batep." 

On  the  afternoon  succeeding,  Mr.  Bates  entered 
Richard's  counting-room.  He  clasped  his  hand  with 
fervor. 

"  Mr.  Hunter,"  he  said,  "  I  do  not  know  how  to 
thank  you.     Where  is  my  boy?  " 

"  I  am  just  going  up  to  the  house,"  said  Richard. 
"  If  you  will  accompany  me,  you  shall  soon  see 
him." 

"lam  impatient  to  hear  all  the  particulars,"  said 
Mr.  Bates.  "Remember,  I  know  nothing  as  yet.  I 
only  received  your  telegram  announcing  his  dis- 
covery.    When  did  you  find  him?  " 

"  That  is  the  strangest  part  of  it,"  said  Richard. 
"  I  found  him  sick  just  outside  the  office  door  several 
weeks  since.  I  took  him  home,  and  when  he  recov- 
ered let  him  get  a  place  in  a.  bookstore ;  but,  having 
become  interested  in  him,  I  was  unwilling  to  lose 
sight  of  him,  and  still  kept  him  with  me.  All  this 
*vhile  I  was  searching  for  your  grandson,  and  had 
not  the  least  idea  that  he  was  already  found." 


OR,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  265 

"  How  did  you  discover  this  at  last?  " 

"  B y  his  recognition  of  his  mother's  photograph 
It  was  lucky  you  thought  of  leaving  it  with  me." 

"  Is  his  name  John  ?  " 

"  He  says  his  name  is  Mark,  but  for  his  last  name 
ho  had  adopted  a  different  one,  or  I  should  have 
made  the  discovery  sooner." 

"How  did  he  make  a  living  before  you  found 
him?  Poor  boy!"  said  Mr.  Bates,  sighing,  "I 
fear  he  must  have  suffered  many  privations." 

"  He  was  selling  matches  for  some  time, — what 
we  call  a  match  boy.  He  had  suffered  hardships, 
but  I  leave  him  to  tell  you  his  story  himself." 

"  How  does  he  feel  about  meeting  me?"  asked 
Mr.  Bates. 

"  You  are  a  stranger  to  him,  and  he  naturally  feels 
a  little  timid,  but  he  will  soon  be  reassured  when  he 
gets  acquainted  with  you." 

Mark  had  already  arrived.  As  they  entered  the 
room,  Mr.  Bates  said  with  emotion,  "  Is  that  he  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Come  here,  Mark,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  which  took 
away  Mark's  apprehension.  "  Do  you  know  who  I 
im?  " 


266  MARK)    THE   MATCH  BOY ; 

"Are  you  my  grandfather  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  come  to  take  care  of  you,  and  to  see 
tfiat  you  suffer  no  more  from  poverty." 

Mr.  Bates  stooped  down  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon 
the  boy's  forehead. 

"  I  can  see  Irene's  look  in  his  eyes,"  he  said. 
''It  is  all  the  proof  I  need  that  he  is  my  grand 
child." 

It  was  arranged  that  in  three  days,  for  he  had  some 
business  to  transact,  he  should  go  back  to  Milwaukie. 
carrying  Mark  with  him.  He  went  round  to  Mr 
Baker's  store  the  next  morning  with  his  grandson 
and  explained  to  him  why  he  should  be  obliged  to 
withdraw  him  from  his  employ. 

"lam  sorry  to  lose  him,"  said  Mr.  Baker.  "  He 
is  quick  and  attentive  to  his  duties,  and  has  given 
me  excellent  satisfaction  ;  but  I  am  glad  of  his  good 
fortune." 

"It  gives  me  pleasure  to  hear  so  good  an  account 
of  him,"  said  Mr.  Bates.  "  Though  he  will  be  under 
no  necessity  of  taking  another  situation,  but  will  for 
geveral  years  devote  himself  to  study,  the  same  good 
qualities  for  which  you  give  him  credit  will  insure 
his  satisfactory  progress  in  school." 


OB,    RICHARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  267 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

CONCLUSION. 

It  was  not  long  before  Mark  felt  quite  at  home 
v  ith  his  grandfather.  He  no  longer  felt  afraid  of 
him,  but  began  to  look  forward  with  pleasant  antici- 
pations to  his  journey  West,  and  the  life  that  was  to 
open  before  him  in  Milwaukie.  It  was  a  relief  to 
think  that  he  would  not  now  be  obliged  to  take  care 
of  himself,  but  would  have  some  one  both  able  and 
willing  to  supply  his  wants,  and  provide  him  with  a 
comfortable  home. 

He  felt  glad  again  that  he  was  going  to  school. 
He  remembered  how  anxious  his  poor  mother  had 
been  that  he  should  receive  a  good  education,  and 
now  his  grandfather  had  promised  to  send  him  to  the 
best  school  in  Milwaukie. 

The  next  morning  after  their  meeting,  Mr.  Bates 
tc.fc  Mark  to  a  large  clothing  establishment,  and 
v&d  him   fitted  out  with  new  clothes  in  the  most 


268  MARK,    THE  MATCH  BOY; 

liberal  manner.     He  even  bought  him  a  silver  watch, 
of  which  Mark  felt  very  proud. 

"Now,  Mark,"  said  his  grandfather,  "if  there 
is  any  one  that  was  kind  to  you  when  you  were  a 
poor  match  boy,  I  should  like  to  do  something  to 
show  my  gratitude  for  their  kindness.  Can  you 
think  of  any  one?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Mark;  "there's  Ben  Gibson." 

"  And  who  is  Ben  Gibson?  " 

"  He  blacks  boots  down  on  Nassau  Street.  When 
I  ran  away  from  Mother  Watson,  who  treated  me  so 
badly,  he  stood  by  me,  and  prevented  her  from  get- 
ting hold  of  me  again." 

"  Is  there  any  one  besides  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mark,  after  a  pause;  "  there  is  Mrs. 
Flanagan.  She  lives  in  the  same  tenement-house 
where  I  used  to.  When  I  was  almost  starved  she  used 
to  give  me  something  to  eat,  though  she  was  pool 
herself." 

"  I  think  we  will  call  and  see  her  first,"  said  Mr 
Bates.  "lam  going  to  let  you  give  her  a  huadre.'i 
dollars." 

"  She  will  be    delighted,"   said  Mark,  his  eyes 


OR,    RICHARD   HLNTERTS    WARD.  269 

sparkling  with  joy.     "  It  will  seem  a  fortune  to  her. 
Let  us  go  at  once  '" 

Very  well,"   said   his   grandfather.       "After, 
wards  we  will  try  to  find  your  friend  Ben." 

I  forgot  to  mention  that  Mr.  Bates  was  stopping 
at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel. 

They  took  the  University  Place  cars,  which  landed 
them  at  the  junction  of  Barclay  Street  and  Broad- 
way. From  thence  it  was  but  a  short  distance  to 
Vandewater  Street,  where  Mark  lived  when  first 
introduced  to  the  reader. 

They  climbed  the  broken  staircase,  and  paused  in 
front  of  Mrs.  Flanagan's  door. 

Mark  knocked. 

Mrs.  Flanagan  opened  the  door,  and  stared  with 
some  surprise  at  her  visitors. 

"Don't  you  know  me,  Mrs.  Flanagan?"  asked 
Mark. 

"  Why,  surely  it  isn't  Mark,  the  little  match 
boy?  "  said  Mrs.  Flanagan,  amazed. 

"  Yes,  it  is.     So  you  didn't  know  me  ?  " 

"And  it's  rale  delighted  I  am  to  see  you  lookin' 
10  fine.     And  who  is  this  gentleman  ?  " 


270  MARK,    THE    MATCH   BOY; 

"  It  is  my  grandfather,  Mrs.  Flanagan.  I'm 
going  out  West  to  live  with  him." 

Mrs.  Flanagan  dropped  a  courtesy  to  Mr.  Bates, 
who  said,  "  My  good  woman,  Mark  tells  me  that  you 
were  kind  to  him  when  he  stood  in  need  of  kind- 
ness " 

"  And  did  he  say  that?  "  said  Mrs.  Flanagan,  her 
face  beaming  with  pleasure.  "  Shure  it  was  little  I 
did  for  him,  bein'  poor  myself ;  but  that  little  he  was 
heartily  welcome  to,  and  I'm  delighted  to  think  he's 
turned  out  so  lucky.  The  ould  woman  trated  him 
eery  bad.  I  used  to  feel  as  if  I'd  like  to  break  her 
ould  bones  for  her." 

"Mark  and  I  both  want  to  thank  you  for  your 
kindness  to  him,  and  he  has  a  small  gift  to  give  you." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Mark,  drawing  from  his  pocket 
a  neat  pocket-book,  containing  a  roll  of  bills.  "You'll 
find  a  hundred  dollars  inside,  Mrs.  Flanagan,"  he 
gaid.     "  I  hope  they  will  help  you." 

"  A  hundred  dollars  !  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Flanagan, 
hardly  believing  her  ears.  "  Does  this  good  gentle- 
man give  me  a  hundred  dollars  !  " 

"No  it  is  Mark's  gift  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Bates. 

"  It's  rich  I  am  with  so  much  money,"  said  the 


OR,    RICnARD   HUNTER'S    WARD.  271 

good  woman.  "May  the  saints  bless  you  both! 
Now  I  can  buy  some  clothes  for  the  childer,  and  have 
plenty  left  beside.  This  is  a  happy  day  entirely. 
But  won't  you  step  in,  and  rest  yourselves  a  bit  ? 
It's  a  poor  room,  but  —  " 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Flanagan,"  said  Mr.  Bates, 
"but  we  are  in  haste  this  morning.  Whenever  Mark 
comes  to  New  York  he  shall  come  and  see  you." 

They  went  downstairs,  leaving  Mrs.  Flanagan  so 
excited  with  her  good  fortune,  that  she  left  her  work, 
and  made  a  series  of  calls  upon  her  neighbors,  in 
which  she  detailed  Mark's  good  fortune  and  her 
own. 

"Now  we'll  go  and  find  your  friend,  Ben  Gib- 
son," said  Mr.  Bates. 

"I  think  we'll  find  him  on  Nassau  Street,"  said 
Mark. 

He  was  right. 

In  walking  down  Nassau  Street  on  the  east  side, 
Mr.  Bates  was  accosted  by  Ben  himself. 

'•  Shine  yer  boots?  " 

"  How  are  you,  Ben?  "  said  Mark. 

Ben  stared  in  surprise  till  he  recognized  hia  old 
companion. 


272  MA /IK,    THE    MATCH   BOY; 

"  Blest  if  it  aint  Mark,"  he  said.  "  How  you'w 
gettin   on !  " 

"  Bm,  this  is  my  grandfather,"  said  Mark. 

"  Well,  you're  a  lucky  chap,"  said  Ben,  enviously 
"  I  wish  I  could  find  a  rich  grandfather.  I  don't 
believe  I  ever  had  a  grandfather." 

"How  are  you  getting  on,  my  lad?"  inquired 
Mr.  Bates. 

"Middlin',"  said  Ben.  "I  haveD't  laid  by  a 
fortun'  yet." 

"No,  I  suppose  not.  How  do  you  like  blacking 
boots?" 

"  Well,  there's  other  things  I  mi^ht  like  bet- 
ter,"  said  Ben,  —  "such  as  bein'  a  rich  merchant; 
but  that  takes  rather  more  capital  than  blackin' 
boots." 

"I  see  you  are  an  original,"  said  Mr.  Bates, 
smiling. 

"Am  I?"  said  Ben.  "Well,  I'm  glad  of  it, 
though  I  didn't  know  it  before.  I  hope  it  aint  any* 
thing  very  bad." 

"  Mark  says  you  treated  him  kindly  when  he  lived 
about  the  street." 

"  It  wasn't  much,"  said  Ben. 


OR,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  273 

"  I  want  to  do  something  for  you.  What  shall  1 
do?" 

"Well,"  said  Ben,  "I  should  like  a  new  brush. 
This  is  most  worn  out." 

"  How  would  you  like  to  go  to  Milwaukie  with 
Mark,  if  I  will  get  you  a  place  there?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  it?  "  said  Ben,  incredulously. 

"  Certainly." 

"  I  haven't  any  money  to  pay  for  goin'  out  there." 

"  I  will  take  care  of  that,"  said  Mr.  Bates. 

"Then  1*11  go,"  said  Ben,  "and  I'm  much 
obliged  to  you.  Mark,  you're  a  brick,  and  so's 
your  grandfather.  I  never  expected  to  have  such 
good  luck." 

"  Then  you  must  begin  to  make  arrangements  at 
once.  Mark,  here  is  some  money.  You  may  go 
with  Ben,  see  that  he  takes  a  good  bath,  and  then 
buy  him  some  clothes.  I  am  obliged  to  leave 
you  to  dc  it,  as  I  must  attend  to  some  business 
in  Wall  Street.  I  shall  expect  to  see  you  both  at 
the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  at  two  o'clock." 

At  two  o'clock,  Mr.  Bates  found  the  two  boys 
awaiting  him.  There  was  a  great  change  in  Ben's 
appearance.      He  had   faithfully  submitted    to    tha 


£74  MARK,    THE   MATCH   BOY; 

bath,  and  bloomed  out  in  a  tasteful  suit  of  clothes, 
selected  by  Mark.  Mark  had  taken  him  besides  to 
a  barber's  and  had  his  long  hair  cut.  So  he  now 
made  quite  a  presentable  appearance,  though  he  felt 
very  awkward  in  his  new  clothes. 

"  It  don't  seem  natural  to  be  clean,"  he  confessed 
to  Mark. 

"  You'll  get  used  to  it  after  a  while,"  said  Mark, 
laughing. 

"  Maybe  I  will ;  but  I  miss  my  old  clothes.  They 
seemed  more  comfortable." 

The  next  day  they  were  to  start.  Een  remained 
at  the  hotel  with  his  friend  Mark,  feeling,  it  must 
be  confessed,  a  curious  sensation  at  his  unusual  po- 
sition. 

They  went  to  make  a  farewell  call  on  Richard 
Hunter. 

"Mr.  Hunter,"  said  Mr.  Bates,  "money  will  not 
pay  you  for  the  service  you  have  done  me,  but  I 
shall  be  glad  if  you  will  accept  this  cheque." 

Richard  saw  that  it  was  a  cheque  for  a  thousand 
dollars. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  liberality,  Mr.  Bates.  *  he 
said  ;  "  but  I  do  not  deserve  it." 


OK,    RICHARD    HUNTER'S    WARD.  274 

"Let  me  be  the  judge  of  that." 

k<  I  will  accept  it  on  one  condition." 

"  Name  it,  Mr.  Hunter." 

CI  That  you  will  allow  me  to  give  it  to  the  News- 
boys' Lodge,  where  I  once  found  shelter,  and  ^he»e 
bo  many  poor  boys  are  now  provided  for." 

"  I  will  give  an  equal  sum  to  that  institution," 
said  Mr.  Bates,  "and  I  thank  you  for  reminding  me 
of  it.  As  for  this  money,  oblige  me  by  keeping  it 
yourself. ' ' 

"  Then,"  said  Richard,  "  I  will  keep  it  as  a  char- 
ity fund,  and  whenever  I  have  an  opportunity  of 
helping  along  a  boy  who  is  struggling  upward  as  I 
once  had  to  struggle,  I  will  do  it." 

"A  noble  resolution,  Mr.  Hunter!  You  have 
frund  out  the  best  use  of  money." 

Mark  is  now  at  an  excellent  school  in  Milwaukie, 
pursuing  his  studies.  He  is  the  joy  and  solace  of 
his  grandfather's  life,  hitherto  sad  and  lonely,  and  ia 
winning  the  commendation  of  his  teachers  by  his  de- 
votion to  study.  A  place  was  found  for  Ben  Gibson, 
where  he  had  some  advantages  of  education,  and  ha 
is  likely  to  do   well.     He   has  been   persuaded  by 


276  MARK,    THE   MATCH    BOY. 

Mark  to  leave  off  smoking,  —  a  habit  which  he  had 
ibrmed  in  the  streets  of  New  York.  The  shrewdness 
winch  his  early  experiences  taught  him  will  be  likely 
to  benefit  him  in  the  business  career  which  lies  be- 
fore him. 

Every  year  Mark  sends  a  substantial  present  to 
Mrs  Flanagan,  under  his  grandfather's  direction,  and 
thu.»  makes  the  worthy  woman's  life  much  more  com- 
fortable and  easy.  From  time  to  time  Mark  receives 
a  btier  from  Richard  Hunter,  who  has  not  lost  his 
interest  in  the  little  match  boy  who  was  once  his 
ward. 

So  the  trials  of  Mark,  the  Match  Boy,  as  far  as 
they  proceeded  from  poverty  and  privation,  are  at  an 
end.  He  has  found  a  comfortable  and  even  luxurious 
home,  and  a  relative  whose  great  object  in  life  is  to 
study  his  happiness.  I  hope  that  the  record  of  his 
struggles  will  be  read  with  interest  by  my  young 
readers,  and  shall  hope  to  meet  them  all  again  in  the 
aext  volume  of  this  series,  which  will  be  called: 

ROUGH  AND  READY; 

OR, 

LIFE  AMONG  THE  NEW  YORK  NEWSBOYS. 


FAMOUS  STANDARD 
JUVENILE  LIBRARIES. 

,1NY   VOLUME  SOLD  SEPARATELY  AT  $1.00  PER  VOLUMS 

(Except  the  Sportsman's  Club  Series,  Frank  Nelson  Series  and 

Jack  Hazard  Series.). 

Each  Volume  Illustrated.     j2mo.    Cloth* 


HORATIO  ALGER,  JR. 

The  enormous  sales  of  the  books  of  Horatio  Alger,  Jr., 
show  the  greatness  of  his  popularity  among  the  boys,  and 
prove  that  he  is  one  of  their  most  favored  writers.  I  am  told 
that  more  than  half  a  million  copies  altogether  have  been 
sold,  and  that  all  the  large  circulating  libraries  in  the  country 
have  several  complete  sets,  of  which  only  two  or  three  vol- 
umes are  ever  on  the  shelves  at  one  time.  If  this  is  true, 
what  thousands  and  thousands  of  boys  have  read  and  are 
reading  Mr.  Alger's  books  !  His  peculiar  style  of  stories, 
often  imitated  but  never  equaled,  have  taken  a  hold  upon  the 
young  people,  and,  despite  their  similarity,  are  eagerly  read 
as  soon  as  they  appear. 

Mr.  Alger  became  famous  with  the  publication  of  that 
mdying  book,  "Ragged  Dick,  or  Street  Life  in  New  York." 
It  was  his  first  book  for  young  people,  and  its  success  was  so 
great  that  he  immediately  devoted  himself  to  that  kind  of 
writing.  It  was  a  new  and  fertile  field  for  a  writer  then,  and 
Mr.  Alger's  treatment  of  it  at  once  caught  the  fancy  of  the 
boys.  "Ragged  Dick"  first  appeared  in  1868,  and  ever  since 
then  it  has  been  selling  steadily,  until  now  it  is  estimated 
that  about  200,000  copies  of  the  series  have  been  sold. 

— Pleasant  Hours  for  Boys  and  Girls, 


THE    JOHN    C.    WINSTON    CO.  S    POPULAR    JUVENILES. 

A  writer  for  boys  should  have  an  abundant  sympathy 
with  them.  He  should  be  able  to  enter  into  their  plans, 
hopes,  and  aspirations.  He  should  learn  to  look  upon  life 
as  they  do.  Boys  object  to  be  written  down  to.  A  boy's 
heart  opens  to  the  man  or  writer  who  understands  him. 

— From  Writing  Stories  for  Boys,  by  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES. 

6  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  #6.00 

Ragged  Dick.  Rough  and  Ready. 

Fame  and  Fortune.  Ben  the  Luggage  Boy. 

Mark  the  Match  Boy.  Rufus  and  Rose. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES— First  Series. 

4  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $4.00 

Tattered  Tom.  Phil  the  Fiddler. 

Paul  the  Peddler.  Slow  and  Sure. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES— Second  Series. 

4  vols.  $4.00 

Julius.  Sam's  Chance. 

The  Young  Outlaw.  The  Telegraph  Boy. 

CAMPAIGN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  fo.ofl 

Frank's  Campaign.  Charlie  Codman's  Cruise 

Paul  Prescott's  Charge. 

lUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES— First  Series. 

4  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $400 

Luck  and  Pluck.  Strong  and  Steady. 

Sink  or  Swim.  Strive  and  Succeed. 


THE   JOHN   C.    WINSTON    CO.'s    POPULAR    JUVENILES. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES— Second  Series. 

4  vols.  $4.o« 

Try  and  Trust.  Risen  from  the  Ranks. 

Bound  to  Rise.  Herbert  Carter 'sk  Legacy* 

BRAVE  AND  BOLD  SERIES. 

4  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $4.0© 

Brave  and  Bold.  Shifting  for  Himself. 

Jack's  Ward.  Wait  and  Hope. 

NEW  WORLD  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3-oo 

Digging  for  Gold.     Facing  the  World,         In  a  New  World. 

VICTORY  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.00 

Only  an  Irish  Boy.  Adrift  in  the  City. 

Victor  Vane,  or  the  Young  Secretary. 

FRANK  AND  FEARLESS  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.00 

Frank  Hunter's  Peril.  Frank  and  Fearless. 

The  Young  Salesman. 

GOOD  FORTUNE  LIBRARY. 

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Walter  Sherwood's  Probation.     A  Boy's  Fortune. 
The  Young  Bank  Messenger. 

RUPERT'S  AMBITION. 

i  voL  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $1.00 

JED,  THE  POOR=HOUSE  BOY. 
1  vol.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $1.00 


THE   JOHN    C.    WINSTON    CO.'s    POPULAR    JUVENILES. 

HARRY  CASTLEMON. 


HOW  I  CAME  TO  WRITE  MY  FIRST  BOOK. 

When  I  was  sixteen  years  old  I  belonged  to  a  composii 
don  class.  It  was  our  custom  to  go  on  the  recitation  seat 
every  day  with  clean  slates,  and  we  were,  allowed  ten  min- 
utes to  write  seventy  words  on  any  subject  the  teacher 
thought  suited  to  our  capacity.  One  day  he  gave  out  "What 
a  Man  Would  See  if  He  Went  to  Greenland."  My  heart  was 
in  the  matter,  and  before  the  ten  minutes  were  up  I  had  one 
side  of  my  slate  filled.  The  teacher  listened  to  the  reading 
of  our  compositions,  and  when  they  were  all  over  he  simply 
said  :  "Some  of  you  will  make  your  living  by  writing  one 
of  these  days."  That  gave  me  something  to  ponder  upon. 
I  did  not  say  so  out  loud,  but  I  knew  that  my  composition 
was  as  good  as  the  best  of  them.  By  the  way,  there  was 
another  thing  that  came  in  my  way  just  then.  I  was  read- 
ing at  that  time  one  of  Mayne  Reid's  works  which  I  had 
drawn  from  the  library,  and  I  pondered  upon  it  as  much  as 
I  did  upon  what  the  teacher  said  to  me.  In  introducing 
Swartboy  to  his  readers  he  made  use  of  this  expression  : 
"No  visible  change  was  observable  in  Swartboy's  counte- 
nance." Now,  it  occurred  to  me  that  if  a  man  of  his  educa- 
tion could  make  such  a  blunder  as  that  and  still  write  a 
book,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  do  it,  too.  I  went  home  that  very 
day  and  began  a  story,  "The  C  1  Guide's  Narrative,"  which 
was  sent  to  the  New  York  Weekly,  and  came  back,  respect- 
fully declined.  It  was  written  on  both  sides  of  the  sheets 
but  I  didn't  know  that  this  was  against  the  rules.  Nothing 
abashed,  I  began  another,  and  receiving  some  instruction, 
from  a  friend  of  mine  who  was  a  clerk  in  a  book  store,  I 
wrote  it  on  only  one  side  of  the  paper.  But  mind  you,  he 
didn't  know  what  I  was  doing.      Nobody  knew  it ;  but  one 


THE    JOHN    C.    WINSTON    COTS    POPULAR    JUVENILES. 

day,  after  a  hard  Saturday's  work — the  other  boys  had  been 
out  skating  on  the  brick-pond — I  shyly  broached  the  subject 
to  my  mother.  I  felt  the  need  of  some  sympathy.  She 
listened  in  amazement,  and  then  said  :  "Why,  do  you  think 
you  could  write  a  book  like  that  ?"  That  settled  the  matter, 
and  from  that  day  no  one  knew  what  I  was  up  to  until  I  sent 
the  first  four  volumes  of  Gunboat  Series  to  my  father.  Was 
it  work  ?  Well,  yes  ;  it  was  hard  work,  but  each  week  I  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  manuscript  grow  until  the 
"Young  Naturalist"  was  all  complete. 

■ — Harry  Cast  lemon  in  the  Writer. 


GUNBOAT  SERIES. 

6  vols.  By  Harry  Castlemon.  $6.00 

Frank  the  Young  Naturalist.       Frank  before  Vicksburg. 
Frank  on  a  Gunboat.  Frank  on  the  Lower  Mississippi. 

Frank  in  the  Woods.  Frank  on  the  Prairie. 

ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Harry  Castlemon.  $3-oo 

Frank  Among  the  Rancheros.     Frank  in  the  Mountains- 
Frank  at  Don  Carlos'  Rancho. 

SPORTSMAN'S  CLUB  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Harry  Castlemon.  $3-75 

The  Sportsman's  Club  in  the  Saddle.     The  Sportsman's  Club 
The  Sportsman's  Club  Afloat.  Among  the  Trappers. 

FRANK  NELSON  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Harry  Castlemon.  $3-75 

Snowed  up.         Frank  in  the  Forecastle.     The  Boy  Traders. 

BOY  TR4PPER    SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Karry  Castlemon.  $3-o< 

The  Buried  Treasure.     The  Boy  Trapper.     The  Mail  Carrier. 


THE    JOHN    C.    WINSTON    CO.'S    POPULAR   JUVENILES. 

ROUGHING  IT  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Harry  Casteemon.  $3.00 

George  in  Camp.  George  at  the  Fort. 

George  at  the  Wheel. 

ROD  AND  GUN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Harry  Casteemon.  $3.00 

Don  Gordon's  Shooting  Box.      The  Young  Wild  Fowlers. 
Rod  and  Gun  Club. 

GO=AHEAD  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Harry  Casteemon.  m  $7>-oo 

Tom  Newcombe.  Go-Ahead.  No  Moss. 

WAR  SERIES. 

6  vols.  By  Harry  Casteemon.  $6.00 

True  to  His  Colors.  Marcy  the  Blockade-Runner. 

Rodney  the  Partisan.  Marcy  the  Refugee. 

Rodney  the  Overseer.  Sailor  Jack  the  Trader. 

HOUSEBOAT  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Harry  Casteemon.  $3-oo 

The  Houseboat  Boys.         The  Mystery  of  Lost  River  Canon. 
The  Young  Game  Warden. 

AFLOAT  AND  ASHORE  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Harry  Casteemon.  I3.00 

Rebellion  in  Dixie.  A  Sailor  in  Spite  of  Himself. 

The  Ten-Ton  Cutter. 

THE  PONY  EXPRESS  SERIES. 

3  vol.  By  Harry  Casteemon.  #3- 00 

The  Pony  Express  Rider.  The  White  Beaver. 

Carl,  The  Trailer. 


THE   JOHN    C.    WINSTON    CO.  S    POPULAR   JUVENILES. 

EDWARD  S.  ELLIS. 

Edward  S.  Ellis,  the  popular  writer  of  boys'  books,  is 
a  native  of  Ohio,  where  he  was  born  somewhat  more  than  a 
half -century  ago.  His  father  was  a  famous  hunter  and  rifle 
shot,  and  it  was  doubtless  his  exploits  and  those  of  his  asso-l 
ciates,  with  their  tales  of  adventure  which  gave  the  son  his 
taste  for  the  breezy  backwoods  and  for  depicting  the  stirring 
life  of  the  early  settlers  on  the  frontier. 

Mr.  Ellis  began  writing  at  an  early  age  and  his  work  was 
acceptable  from  the  first.  His  parents  removed  to  New 
Jersey  while  he  was  a  boy  and  he  was  graduated  from  the 
State  Normal  School  and  became  a  member  of  the  faculty 
while  still  in  his  teens.  He  was  afterward  principal  of  the 
Trenton  High  School,  a  trustee  and  then  superintendent  of 
schools.  By  that  time  his  services  as  a  writer  had  become 
so  pronounced  that  he  gave  his  entire  attention  to  literature. 
He  was  an  exceptionally  successful  teacher  and  wrote  a  num- 
ber of  text-books  for  schools,  all  of  which  met  with  high 
favor.  For  these  and  his  historical  productions,  Princeton 
College  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts. 

The  high  moral  character,  the  clean,  manly  tendencies 
and  the  admirable  literary  style  of  Mr.  Ellis'  stories  have 
made  him  as  popular  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  as  in 
this  country.  A  leading  paper  remarked  some  time  since, 
that  no  mother  need  hesitate  to  place  in  the  hands  of  her  boy 
any  book  written  by  Mr.  Ellis.  They  are  found  in  the  lead- 
ing Sunday-school  libraries,  where,  as  may  well  be  believed, 
they  are  in  wide  demand  and  do  much  good  by  their  sound, 
wholesome  lessons  which  render  them  as  acceptable  to  parents 
as  to  their  children.  All  of  his  books  published  by  Henry 
T.  Coates  &  Co.  are  re-issued  in  London,  and  many  have 
been  translated  into  other  languages.  Mr.  Ellis  is  a  writer 
of  varied  accomplishments,  and,  in  addition  to  his  stories,  is 
the  author  of  historical  works,  of  a  number  of  pieces  of  pop* 


THE   JOHN    C.    WINSTON    CO.'S    POPULAR    JUVENILES. 

ular  music  and  has  made  several  valuable  inventions.  Mr. 
Ellis  is  in  the  prime  of  his  mental  and  physical  powers,  and 
great  as  have  been  the  merits  of  his  past  achievements,  there 
is  reason  to  look  for  more  brilliant  productions  from  his  pea 
in  the  near  future. 


DEERFOOT  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  #3.00 

Hunters  of  the  Ozark.  The  Last  War  Trail. 

Camp  in  the  Mountains. 

LOG  CABIN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

Lost  Trail.  Footprints  in  the  Forest. 

Camp-Fire  and  Wigwam. 

BOY  PIONEER  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

Ned  in  the  Block-House.  Ned  on  the  River. 

Ned  in  the  Woods. 

THE  NORTHWEST  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  #3.00 

Two  Boys  in  Wyoming.  Cowmen  and  Rustlers. 

A  Strange  Craft  and  its  Wonderful  Voyage. 

BOONE  AND  KENTON  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  53.00 

Shod  with  Silence.  In  the  Days  of  the  Pioneers. 

Phantom  of  the  River. 

IRON  HEART,  WAR  CHIEF  OF  THE  IROQUOIS. 

1  vol.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $1.00 

THE  NEW  DEERFOOT  SERIES. 

3  vols.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  $3.00 

Deerfoot  in  the  Forest.  Deerfoot  on  the  Prairie. 

Deerfoot  in  the  Mountains. 


THE   JOHN    C.    WINSTON    CO.  S    POPULAR    Jl'VF.Nll.KS. 


J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE. 

NEITHER  as  a  writer  does  he  stand  apart  from  the  great 
pirrents  of  life  and  select  some  exceptional  phase  or  odd 
combination  of  circumstances.  He  stands  on  the  common 
level  and  appeals  to  the  universal  heart,  and  all  that  he  sug- 
gests or  achieves  is  on  the  plane  and  in  the  line  of  march  of 
the  great  body  of  humanity. 

The  Jack  Hazard  series  of  stories,  published  in  the  lat« 
Our  Young  Folks,  and  continued  in  the  first  volume  of  St. 
Nicholas,  under  the  title  of  "Fast  Friends,"  is  no  doubt 
destined  to  hold  a  high  place  in  this  class  of  literature.  The 
delight  of  the  boys  in  them  (and  of  their  seniors,  too)  is 
well  founded.  They  go  to  the  right  spot  every  time.  Trow- 
bridge knows  the  heart  of  a  boy  like  a  book,  and  the  heart 
of  a  man,  too,  and  he  has  laid  them  both  open  in  these  books 
in  a  most  successful  manner.  Apart  from  the  qualities  that 
render  the  series  so  attractive  to  all  young  readers,  they 
have  great  value  on  account  of  their  portraitures  of  American 
country  life  and  character.  The  drawing  is  wonderfully 
accurate,  and  as  spirited  as  it  is  true.  The  constable,  Sel< 
lick,  is  an  original  character,  and  as  minor  figures  where  will 
we  find  anything  better  than  Miss  Wansey,  and  Mr.  P.  Pip- 
kin, Esq.  The  picture  of  Mr.  Dink's  school,  too,  is  capital, 
and  where  else  in  fiction  is  there  a  better  nick-name  than 
that  the  boys  gave  to  poor  little  Stephen  Treadwell,  "Step 
Hen,"  as  he  himself  pronounced  his  name  in  an  unfortunate 
moment  when  he  saw  it  in  print  for  the  first  time  in  his  les- 
son in  school. 

On  the  whole,  these  books  are  very  satisfactory,  and 
afford  the  critical  reader  the  rare  pleasure  of  the  works  that 
are  just  adequate,  that  easily  fulfill  themselves  and  accora* 
plish  all  they  set  out  to  d©. — Scribuer's  Monthly, 


THE   JOHN    C.    WINSTON    CO.'s    POPULAR    JUVENILES. 

JACK  HAZARD  SERIES. 

...   6  vols.  By  J.  T.  Trowbridge.  $7-25 

Jack  Hazard  and  His  Fortunes.    Doing  His  Best. 

The  Young  Surveyor.  A  Chance  for  Himself. 

Fast  Friends.  Lawrence's  Adventures. 


International  Bibles 


Are  known  the  world  over  for  their  clear  print,  scholarly 
Helps  and  absolutely  flexible  bindings.  They  comprise  every 
variety  of  readable  type  in  every  style  of  binding  and  in- 
clude Text  Bibles,  Reference  Bibles,  Teachers'  Bibles,  Tes- 
taments, Psalms,  Illustrated  Bibles ;  also  the  "Interna- 
tional" Red  Letter  Testaments  and  Red  Letter  Bibles  with 
the  prophetic  types  and  prophecies  relating  to  Christ  in  the 
Old  Testament  printed  in  red,  and  the  words  of  Christ  in 
the  New  Testament  printed  in  red ;  also  Christian  Workers' 
Testament  and  Christian  Workers'  Bible  in  which  all  sub- 
jects or  the  Theme  of  Salvation  are  indexed  and  marked 
in  red. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers.    Catalog  of  Books  and  Biblej 
mailed  on  application  to  the  publishers. 


THE  JOHN  G  WINSTON  CO. 

Winston  Building 
PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 


A  Veritable  "Arabian  Nights"  of  Entertainment 
Containing  168  Complete  Illustrated  Stories. 


HURLBUT'S 

STORY  OF  THE 

BIBLE 


told  for 


YOUNG  AND  OLD 


by 
Rev.  Jesse  Lyman  Hurlbut,  D.D. 

THE  BIBLE  MADE  FASCINATING  TO  CHILDREN.— The  heroes  and  the 
noble  men  and  women  of  the  Bible  are  made  to  appear  as 
living,  acting  people.  The  book  is  an  original  work,  and 
in  no  sense  an  imitation.  It  has  been  in  preparation  for 
a  number  of  vears. 

THE  DISTINGUISHED  AUTHOR.— Dr.  Hurlbut  has  long  been  asso- 
ciated with,  and  director  of,  the  Sunday  School  work  of 
one  of  the  largest  denominations,  and  he  has  been  more 
closely  associated  with  the  detail  work  of  the  Chautauqua 
movement  than  has  any  other  man.  He  is  also  well  known 
as  a  writer. 

REMARKABLE  FOR  THE  BEAUTY  AND  NUMBER  OF  ITS  ILLUSTRATIONS.— 
There  are  sixteen  pictures  in  color  prepared  for  this  work 
by  the  distinguished  artist,  W.  H.  Margetson,  and  repro- 
duced with  the  beauty  and  attractiveness  of  the  artist's 
original  work.  There  are  also  nearly  200  half-tone  en- 
gravings in  this  remarkable  book,  which  is  as  original  in 
the  selection  of  its  illustrations  as  it  is  in  its  stories. 
WHAT  OTHERS  THINK  OF  IT 

"It  is  a  needed  and  original  work.  Not  an  imitation." — Christian  Ad- 
vocate, New  York. 

"Written  in  such  a  style  as  to  fascinate  and  hold  the  interest  of 
child  or  man." — Rev.  F.  E.  Clark,  Pres.  Society  of  Christian  Endeavor. 

"It  is  a  beautiful  book.  I  hope  every  family  in  the  land  will  secure 
'Hurlbut's  Story  of  the  Bible.'  " — General  O.  O.  Howard. 

"The  best  book  of  its  kind,  and  that  kind  the  most  important." — 
Rev.  James  A.  Worden,    Presbyterian   B'd  of  Pub.  and  S.  S.  Work. 

"I  like  very  much  the  vocabulary  you  have  used,  and  I  can  see  how 
careful  yo'u  have  been  in  choosing  understandable  words." — Mr.  Philip 
E.    Howard,   Sunday-School  Times,  Philadelphia. 

"It  is  the  completest  and  best  thing  of  the  kind  I  have  seen.  The 
book  is  splendidly  illustrated."  Marian  Lawrance,  General  Secretary 
International    Sunday-School  Association. 

"Many  will  be  drawn  to  the  Bible  who  otherwise  mit*ht  look  upon  it  as 
only  adapted    for  older  people." — Hon.  David  J.  Brewer,  Justice  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States. 
8vo,  cloth.    750  pages.     16  color  plates.     162  half-tone  engravings.    Net  $1.50 

The   JOHN    C.  WINSTON  CO. 


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